Fortune & Glory
by WalkingInMemphis
Summary: COMPLETE! When Claire Howe sells her archeological dream to Ben Gates in exchange for her brother's freedom, she finds herself pulled along in a quest for Blackbeard's treasure. RileyOC
1. Reflecting is Easy to Do In Jail

Disclaimer- I don't own National Treasure. If you don't believe me, check for the absence of Riley running around shirtless in the movie.

Chapter One

Ian Howe stared at the decrepit hellhole that was his jail cell, wishing desperately for the millionth time that he had never heard the name Ben Gates. Or that he had scoffed at the idea of funding his ridiculous expedition- or at _least_ killed him when he had the chance.

_There were so many times I could have done it,_ he thought in agony. _Why didn't I?_

He could have been sitting in a custom built Ferrari on some Caribbean island, far away from the goddamned FBI, if he had just killed Gates and his minions instead of leaving them to die. He winced in distaste as a cockroach crawled across his floor. That old FBI officer must have had some wicked vendetta against him-he hadn't been able to bribe his way into a nicer penitentiary in the four months after his trial. Why was that guy Sadusky mad anyway? For Christ's sake, it was only a moldy old document!

He closed his eyes and mentally blew Ben's head off repeatedly until he calmed down. Then the tiny pangs of guilt started. He tried to will them away, but they hovered around his head and berated him with tinny, annoying voices that were beginning to sound like that insufferable brat Riley.

_You never really wanted to kill Ben_ they whispered. _You didn't…You didn't… You didn't……..  
_"Argh!" he yelled in frustration, banging his had against the bedframe.

The voices were gone, but now his head hurt like the devil. _I'm going insane_ he thought. _This place is slowly driving me insane._

It was true though, what the voices had said. Deep down, beneath the layers of deceit and cunning, he had never really wanted to kill Ben Gates, for a number of reasons. He had admired the man undeniably, with his determination to follow his dream, not to mention granite moral fiber, something Ian hadn't seen in years. _Its that "moral fiber" of his that landed you in here,_ he reminded himself bitterly.

Ben had also trusted him entirely. At the time, he had considered that entirely foolish. No one trusted him, not even his own men.

_And for good reason,_ he thought, smirking. Ian Howe was known to pull double, even triple crosses on a day-to-day basis. However, he had come to enjoy his trust as the time passed on. It had been a long time since anyone had trusted him.

_Well, except for one person,_ he reminded himself.

And speaking of Claire, where is she? It was Wednesday-she came every other Wednesday. A sharp knock on his door interrupted his ponderings.

"Mr. Howe?" A sharp voice rang out. "Mr. Howe, you have a visitor."

Ian's door opened and his guard handcuffed him, leading him out of his room and down the harshly lit hallway to the state penitentiary's visiting room.

The third and final reason, Ian concluded, as he stumbled into the room, why he never wanted to kill Ben was that his determination and trust reminded him of the young woman who was watching him with concerned blue eyes as he sprawled out onto the char opposite from her. The Howe eyes. Grabbing the obnoxiously orange phone hanging on the Plexiglas that separated them, he lifted it to his face  
"Hey little sis."

---------------------------------------------------  
Claire Howe walked out of the state penitentiary trying hard not to burst out in tears. A parking lot next to a prison didn't seem to be the best environment to have an emotional breakdown, so she waited until climbing into her silver Jetta to let the waterworks come. Her big brother, her only living family, was rotting away in that stinking pit.

She tried to block out from her mind the gaunt face that greeted her with one of his trademark smirks that had been reduced to a pained grimace.

"Tell me all about Harvard Claire. You're not eating the food there, are you? It's probably worse then the crap they serve here"

Her brother, the comedian, she thought bitterly. He had reassured her that he was "peachy" and tried to bombard her with questions of graduate school meant to distract her. But she had noticed how much weight he had lost, his hideous orange jumpsuit hanging on his frame.

But what had really panicked her was the look in his eyes: That desperate wild look that James Howe had gotten the days before he took a self- inflicted bullet to the head, leaving his two children with millions of dollars to replace the presence of their father.

Ian's parole was in a week. She knew without a doubt that the board would not consider letting him out of a 20-year sentence after only four. All thanks to that asshole FBI officer who had insisted the "somebody needed to go to jail"

"Well, go find someone who isn't my brother!" She had screamed at him. Mentally, anyway. It seemed that she was always restricted to yelling at people in her head.

Next week the parole would be hell, just like it had been the last 3 times. She would sit and beg her heart out for them to release her brother, getting her hopes absurdly high and being crushed and angry when they, once again, reported that Ian Howe wasn't going anywhere. It would be exactly the same next week.

Unless….

Unless she could get _him_ to testify at the hearing next week. Shaking her head, she dismissed the thought immediately. She hated him. In other circumstances he would be her idol, but that asshole put her brother in jail and she hated him.

Plus, he would never testify…..would he?

Never…she had the feeling that he hated her brother as much as she hated _him_. But there was one way……….  
She would do anything short of springing him out herself to get Ian out of prison. And if she possessed something that would tip the scale, it shouldn't matter how much she wanted it. Desperate times called for desperate measures. Digging out her cell phone, she pressed "0" and waited for the operator.

"Hello? Yes, I'd like the number for Benjamin Gates."


	2. Meeting Claire

Chapter Two

As he ate stale Fruit Loops dry from the box at two in the morning, Riley Poole concluded that despite the fact that he was young, rich, (and devilishly good looking, if he did say so himself), his social life pretty much _sucked_

He thought that the money would make everything better. Supermodels would flock to his door, and he would never run out of dates. Actually, his newly accumulated fame (and wealth) had drawn in some girls who he would have previously considered out of his league. He was thrilled at first, but then he realized that there wasn't a lot going on behind their flawless looks. Dating them was like trying to carry on a conversation with his dog Franklin (who, obviously, was named by Ben- the damned history freak)

Plus, Ben had started to call him Hugh Hefner. Riley hadn't even thought that Ben knew who Hugh Hefner _was_.

So, he had ditched the supermodels. Then Abigail had stepped in and tried to fix him up with some of her friends, claiming that he needed "some kind of divine intervention" The first girl he met, Eloise, spent half their date boring him with useless history facts and the other half asking him about the historical finds he had made in the Mason's treasure. It was like being on a date with Ben, except he could tell Ben to shut up and go away. (and, obviously, Ben was a man.)

In the end, that's what he told Eloise as well. Abigail hadn't spoken to him for a month.

And now, sitting in the kitchen of his newly-bought apartment, Riley felt very lonely. Maybe it was because of his proximity to the newlyweds, (who weren't actually newlyweds anymore, but still acted like them) but Riley had started to feel completely and utterly socially inadequate.

Which, as he pondered the issue, he was. In the 26 years of his life, Riley had never really had a functioning relationship with a girl . It was probably because, he reflected, his most loving bond was with his computer.

That would probably do it.

As Riley continued his wallowing in self-pity (and Fruit Loops), his cell phone started to belt out the Macarena.

Riley stood up, looked around, and groaned. Franklin, along with his many other endearing qualities, had a habit of hiding his cell phone.

Eleven rings later, his phone retrieved from inside the sugar bowl (how _had_ he pulled that one off?) Riley flipped it open and fumbled until he found the talk button.

"Go away Ben."

"Nice to see you too Riley. How did you know it was me?"

Riley sighed, exasperated. "Because, Ben, _normal_ people call during the waking hours."

"This couldn't wait. You'll never guess who called me last night"

Riley really wasn't in the mood for riddles. "That Caroll dude wanted his house back?"

"Funny, Riley. It was Claire Howe."

He wretched the phone away from his ear and stared at it in surprise as if it had some sort of defect.

"I'm sorry, Ben, did you say Howe? As in _Ian_ Howe, the crazy psychopath who tried to kill us on several occasions?"

"His sister, actually. She wants to meet with us."

Riley resumed his action of simply staring at the phone in surprise.

"Ian has a sister?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, she's younger that him. Apparently she's in grad school at Harvard. A history major, actually"

"What, and she wanted the guy who put her brother in prison to help her with her thesis paper?"

"Actually, she wants to meet with us tomorrow. Well, today. What _time_ it anyway?"

Riley felt himself slide off his char, the Fruit Loops crashing to the floor. "Ben, please, for the love of all things expensive, do _not_ tell me that you agreed to meet with her. Even _you're_ not that crazy."

Ben sighed, a rush of static over the phone. "She said it was urgent."

"What, the firing squad couldn't wait until Saturday?"

Ben adopted what he thought was a calm, reassuring tone. "Look Riley, I met her once. In the first few days I was working for Ian. She seemed nice enough."

"You were also the one who thought that Ian was a kind, law abiding sponsor who would never kill anyone, so excuse me if my faith in your judgment of character is a little lax!" Riley was mortified as his voice adopted that high, squeaky tone that he got when he was upset.

Ben dropped his reassuring tone for the usual bark he used around his best friend. Riley, we're going to meet her at the Liberty Café at one today. You're coming whether you like it or not. Got it?"

Riley groaned. "Aye-Aye, chief. Give me liberty or give me death."

"_Real_ witty, Riley." And with that, Ben hung up.

Grumbling to himself, Riley climbed off the floor and scowling, kicked a chair in frustration. Why couldn't Ben listen to him for once? This was not going to turn out well. Limping out of the kitchen, he headed towards his bedroom, He sensed that he would need all the sleep he could get for this afternoon.

---------------------------------------------

She was late.

Riley fidgeted in his chair at the outdoor café, checking his watch for the third time. "It's one-fifteen, Ben."

"Yes, Riley I'm aware of that."

"Not that it's a crime to be late," Riley replied casually. "In fact, she's probably just advising the hired sniper on where the best angle is."

"Riley!"

"I'm serious, Ben. We're walking into a death trap!"

"_No_!" Ben said through gritted teeth. "Riley, she's _here_!"

Riley immediately whipped his head around, trying to find someone resembling Ian in a dress. (Which was quite a disturbing picture.) "Where?"

"Over by the fire hydrant across the street." Ben whispered. "And try not to be _too_ obvious, okay?"

Elbowing his fork off the table in what he thought was a nonchalant way, Riley bet down and scanned across the street, ignoring Ben's eye roll at his un-obvious-ness.

She was talking animatedly on a cell phone to someone, with her arms waving around angrily. Listening hard, Riley caught the words "Professor" and "document".

She was short, shorter that him, he realized in relief. Apparently Ian had sucked up all the tall, scary genes for himself. She was young too, younger that he was expected. She didn't look more than 24.

She did, however, look a bit like Ian. She had the same hair, pale gold and very short that struggled to get out of a tiny ponytail at the back of her head. They also had the same blue sly-looking eyes, which looked out of place on such a young girl. She wasn't nearly as pretty or curvy as the models he had dated in the beginning of his wealth, but she was extremely interesting looking.

As started to cross the street, Riley realized in surprise that she wasn't dressed like he suspected either. Her clothes were clean and pretty, but they didn't speak of wealth. In fact, the slightly threadbare garments spoke of very little money. All in all, she looked like a normal struggling Grad student. If not for the hair and the eyes, he never would have guessed that she was Ian's sister.

She entered the café and scanned the tables. Her eyes lit up in recognition as she saw Ben, and as she walked slowly over to their table all the animation seemed to drain out of her. She looked determined, but nervous as hell, if by the way her hand were shaking was any indication. She sat down at the chair across from them and gave them a polite smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Hello, Mr. Gates. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

------------------------------------------------------

She was nervous as hell. She didn't do well with people, one of the reasons why she loved being a history major. Dealing with piles of books, she was in her element. But bargaining with a guy she hated over her brother's freedom? NOT her idea of fun. For the fourth time she wished desperately that Ian hadn't sucked up all the tall, scary genes. She could use some intimidation right now-not to mention courage. She hated the fact that she was a coward.

"Hi, Miss Howe." Ben said cautiously. "It's nice to see you again. I believe you haven't met my friend, Riley Poole" Riley Poole just glared at her like she was an ax-murderer. Which, she realized, he probably thought she was.

"Where's your accent?" he asked bluntly

She blinked, trying to process the information "Sorry?"

Ben looked mildly embarrassed. "Your brother has an English accent. Riley was wondering why you didn't."

"Oh", she replied, flustered.

_Crap,_ she thought. _What happened to the unflappable composure I was supposed to have?_

"My brother and I are fifteen years apart." She finally answered. "He lived with our parents in England before I was born, and then they moved here before they had me."

Ben Gates didn't look much different than he did when she first met him six years ago. The man sitting next to him, Riley Poole, hadn't joined Ben & Ian on their expedition until much later, so she had never met him. He was really young, much younger than Ben, she noted with surprise, who was around her brothers age. He couldn't be much older than her.

Ben smiled at her politely. "Miss Howe, why exactly did you ask us to meet you here?"

Trying to smile and not pee in fear, she gently extracted the manuscript from her bag and laid in on the table.

"Gentleman, I have a proposition for you."

-----------------------------------------------------------

She was treating that envelope like glass. Riley wondered what was in it. Money? Nah, not likely. She must know that they were millionaires. Plus Ben was too _noble_ to accept bribes.

Maybe, he hypothesized; it was a small bomb that she would use to threaten them with. After all, she was Ian's sister. Ian I'll-just-leave-you-here-to-die-in-this-rotting-pit-carved-out-milions-of-years-ago-while-I-go-to-Boston-to-claim-the-treasure-I-don't-deserve Howe. And yes, maybe he was paranoid, but it's better to be paranoid then dead, right?

She opened the envelope and gently pulled out a small stack of paper. An old stack of papers, judging by the state of the yellowed parchment.

Well…that was rather anticlimactic. A stack of papers? What was she going to do,_ papercut_ them to death?

Ben looked interested now at the sight of old documents. What a weirdo.

"What are those? They look about mid-eighteenth century." Ben questioned.

Riley rolled his eyes. Why couldn't he just say "old" like normal people?

Claire looked pleased that Ben has accurately guessed the age of her moldy ancient documents. "They're correspondences from 1716, from Edward Teach to Benjamin Hornigold."

Ben was gaping openly now. Riley looked back and forth between Ben and Claire trying to understand what was going on.

"Guys? A little explanation to the non-history obsessed?"

She turned to him, the slightly pleased look gone "Edward Teach was a privateer-turned -pirate who was the apprentice of Benjamin Hornigold until Hornigold, retired, leaving him master. He's better known as Blackbeard."

Riley was really paying attention now. "Blackbeard? Like the famous pirate Blackbeard with the huge treasure?"

She nodded. "That's right; the one that was never found."

Ben leaned forward. "Miss Howe, are you saying that these letters contain the location of Blackbeard's treasure?"

She shifted in her chair nervously "Well…..not _exactly_"

Ben raised his eyebrows "What does that mean?"

"I compared the hints that Teach gave Hornigold about his treasure to the publicized records of his life and pinpointed a _probable_ location of the treasure."

"Where is-" Riley began , only to be cut off by Ben

"-Where on earth did you _find_ these?" Ben asked

Riley snorted "_Found _probably isn't the correct word." he mumbled under his breath.

"Riley!" Ben hissed

Claire turned bright red. "I didn't steal them. I found them in an 18th century desk that I bought from an antique store while I was researching Teach in Boston. I think it might have belonged to Hornigold."

Ben looked at her closely "Miss Howe, why are you showing us these?"

She looked even more nervous that before, if that was possible. "I'm willing to give them to you if you testify at my brother's parole hearing."

There was a slight pause

"Absolutely not." Riley said, breaking the silence.

"Wait, Riley, let's think about this for a second." Ben answered. Turning to Claire, he stared at her searchingly "How do we know that Ian won't try to kill us once he gets out of prison?"

"He won't." she said defensively "Not if you help him get out. Please, Mr.Gates" she begged. "He's my only family, and he's going to _die_ in there!"

Riley really couldn't care less about what happened to Ian. But Blackbeard's treasure probably had a lot less historical significance than the Mason's. Which meant they could actually _keep_ some of it. Looking over at Ben, he could see that Ben as well was considering the offer, but obviously not for the same reasons he was. Ben had actually liked Ian, up until the point where Ian pulled a gun on him.

And, Riley reasoned, four years _was_ a long time to spend in prison.

"What happens if we testify and Ian still doesn't get released?" Ben asked

Apparently Claire had already prepared an answer to this. "I'll give you the documents anyway and you'll testify every year until he gets out." she answered swiftly.

Ben hesitated for a few minutes then held out his hand to Claire "Miss. Howe, you've got yourself a deal."

Claire released a huge breath of air, as if she was deflating and grinned hugely.

_Wow,_ Riley thought, surprised. _She looks a lot different when she's actually smiling._ Shaking Ben's hand enthusiastically she stood up "Thank you Mr. Gates. You really have no idea what this means to me. I'll see you Wednesday." And with that, she practically skipped away, completely ignoring him. _It was probably the stealing comment,_ he rationalized. He turned to Ben. "I still think she has ulterior motives." he complained.

"Riley, she just wants her brother back." he said. "It must have been hard to offer us those documents. They're really _something_."

Riley snorted. "She'll probably just gun us down outside the prison after we testify and take them back." he retorted.

"_Excuse_ me?"

Riley turned around. Mini-Ian had come back. _Crap,_ he thought, avoiding eye contact. _She heard me. This is awkward._

"I forgot to tell you….The parole hearing is a three. Please don't be late." she said quickly.

Turning around and heading towards her car, she turned around suddenly again. "And Mr. Poole?" Riley cringed. "I don't know how to use a gun." She retorted.

Once she was out of sight, Ben turned to him, glaring.

"Well _done,_ Riley."

---------------------------------------

Claire collapsed in relief in her car. They were going to testify. Ian would get out. It would all be ok. Later she would lament giving over the letters, but right now all she could think about was getting Ian out of there.

_And that asshole Riley,_ She thought angrily. Why couldn't she ever think up better comebacks? _I don't know how to use a gun. Really witty, Claire. I bet it knocked his socks off._

Oh, well. She was really too happy to get mad at him for long. She drove back to her apartment singing happily (with the windows rolled firmly up of course-she was tone deaf.) Wednesday was going to be fabulous.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Please Review! Even if you hated it! (Well, if you hated it, try to be nice-it's my first fic, so please don't flame. But constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!


	3. Ian's Parole Hearing

Disclaimer-I own nothing. It's sad, really.

A/N-This relatively short chapter is basically a parole hearing. I have never personally been to a parole hearing (yet), so I have no idea what one is like. Honestly, I got my parole details from the parole scene in Mystery Men (which I don't own either). Now that I think about it, The Mystery Men parole scene was for an insane asylum, not a prison (oops). So if any of you notice that paroles probably take place in courtrooms and not the actual prison, please forgive me on my lack of Judicial Accuracy. I know not what I do.

-------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Three

The parole hearing room was depressing- a huge, high-ceilinged space that had probably been a warehouse at another time. Its walls were once white, but over time had yellowed, and the huge padlocks on the doors were disconcerting. A lone chair rested in front of a long table occupied by four stern faces with stacks of paper before them containing the profiles of dozens of criminals whose parole hearings were today. Most, if not all of them would be denied.

_But Ian won't,_ Claire thought smugly. _Not today._

Sitting next to her in the visitors section were two men who she had once hated and was now ready to hug. _Well, actually, I still hate one of them,_ she thought, amused. _But after this, who really cares?_

The middle-aged man sitting in the center chair cleared his throat. "The parole hearing of prisoner 23495, Ian James Howe, has begun. Please bring him in."

As Ian was let in, Claire heard Ben start with surprise. She guessed it was because of Ian's emaciated condition. He was probably feeling a little guilty. _Serves you right you…. imprisonater. _she thought nastily, before remembering that Ben was testifying and she didn't hate him anymore. Riley, on the other hand, looked terrified at the sight of her brother to the point that it was almost funny.

As Ian caught sight of Ben and Riley, he almost jumped is surprise, and then narrowed his eyes menacingly at them. Claire let Riley shake in fear for a few seconds before smiling at her brother reassuringly. Realizing that his little sister was sitting _between _his two enemies, Ian's look of anger turned to one of confusion.

"Ladies and Gentleman of the board," The lead board member began. "I believe this is Mr. Howe's fourth parole hearing. You will remember, of course, the enormous uproar he caused when he stole the Declaration of Independence."

Claire glared at the man. She really, _really_ hated Judge Brody. The jerk had been the judge at all three of Ian's previous parole hearings, and loved to remind the board of all the "atrocities" he committed.

"In addition to Grand theft, Mr. Howe was charged with kidnapping, four counts of attempted murder, armed theft, and trespassing on government property, and sentenced to twenty years in prison." Brody continued in his horrible nasally voice. "It is my professional opinion, ladies and gentleman, that we can in no way allow Mr. Howe to be freed, as he poses a threat to the community."

_Professional opinion my ass._ Claire thought maliciously.

"I see that in addition to Miss. Howe, we have two more visitors. May I have your names, gentlemen?"

Claire snorted softly. The Judge knew exactly who Ben and Riley were, if he'd ever watched two seconds of CNN. He was just playing to his stupid board.

Gates cleared his throat. "My name is Benjamin Gates, your honor, and this is Riley Poole." he stated. Riley gave and awkward wave.

Brody raised his eyebrows dramatically. "The Benjamin Gates and Riley Poole who were listed as two of the four counts of attempted murder against Mr. Howe?" He looked as if Christmas had just come early. "Obviously, these two gentlemen have come to testify against the atrocities that Mr. Howe has inflicted on them."

Ben smiled awkwardly "Actually your honor, we're here to testify _for _Mr. Howe."

Claire smiled smugly at Judge Brody as his look of arrogance was replaced by one of disbelief. She knew it was childish to gloat, but at the moment, she was reveling in being childish.

The spectacled woman at the end of the table took advantage of Brody's shocked silence to gesture towards Ben and Riley. "Would you stand and tell the board why please gentleman?"

Both stood and Ben began. "We both do not deny the charges that Ian is placed under, but we dispute the Judge's opinion that Ian is a danger to us. We believe that Ian acted rashly, but regrets his actions fully and, if given the chance, would not commit those rash actions towards us again. Mr. Howe has served for a very long time. Obviously not his full sentence, but definitely enough to reprimand him for his actions. I believe that it's time we give him a second chance."

Man, when Ian got out, Claire was going to make him buy Ben lunch. And dinner. Possibly for the rest of his life.

By the time Ben had finished, Brody had reinstated his composure and was ready to do battle. "Mr. Poole, do _you_ have any comments?"

Riley shrugged and pointed to Ben "What he said."

"Very well then. May I enquire, Mr. Gates, why the other _two_ people Mr. Howe tried to kill aren't present?"

Ben nodded. "My wife, Abigail, had to watch our son, but she shares my sentiments."

Both Claire and Ian's heads shot up in unison. _Gates has a SON?_ They thought simultaneously. Riley suppressed a chuckle.

"My father," Ben continued, "lives in Pennsylvania and wasn't available to come."

Judge Brody tried to regain his air of command. "Though it is touching to see the forgiveness of Mr. Howe's victims, there are numerous other charges against him. Kidnapping, armed theft, trespassing-these _cannot_ be overlooked."

Claire was furious. That biased prick! He was ruining her brother's best chance at freedom because he was too much of a pompous windbag to admit he was proven wrong!

"Obviously, if my wife, who was the kidnappee, if you will, of the situation can forgive him for attempted murder, than the kidnapping issue is really not relevant. The armed robbery charges are also a bit tilted, since Ian really didn't end up actually stealing anything." Ben countered.

"And trespassing on government property?"

Claire jumped up next to Ben, enraged. "Judge Brody, I realize that you're trying to execute _impartial judgment_ by exploring the case form every angle, but my brother broke into a _church_, not the frigging White House!"

"Ah, Miss Howe, I was wondering when we were going to hear _your_ expert opinion."

Her eyes narrowed. "You _pretentious_ _bas_-" Ben wisely cut Claire off of what probably would have been a tirade that would have gotten them thrown out. Riley blinked, shocked. Was this the same woman they had met last week?

"Your Honor, what Miss Howe is trying to say so……..emotionally is that Ian only cut the lock on the gate of the Old North Church-he was arrested before he actually went in. I hardly doubt that the board would keep him in jail for cutting a lock on a church door." Ben explained.

The spectacled lady at the end of the table spoke up again. "Judge Brody, we can hardly hold Mr. Howe here with the testimony that has been given. I think there's really only one choice we have."

Claire grinned. _I knew I always liked her._

The other members of the board murmured in agreement and fuming, Judge Brody had no choice but to consent. "Mr. Howe, I declare your sentence officially over. You must consult with a parole officer once a week. You may not leave the country. If you miss your parole meeting, you will be eligible for arrest. Do you understand these charges?"

"I do." Ian replied, relived.

"Very well." Brody said grumpily. "You're free to go."

Once the guard removed his chains, Claire was out of her seat and rocketed over to his chair, hugging him furiously. Ian looked slightly bewildered, but insanely happy. _I'm free,_ he thought, amazed. _I have no idea what just happened, but I'm free._

----------------------------------------------------------------

As soon as the doors of the prison closed behind the foursome, Ian turned rapidly.

"Ben, not that I'm not grateful, but what the _hell_ are you doing here?"

"Ask your sister" he replied. "Who, by the way, needs to work on her arguing skills. I believe calling the judge a pretentious bastard is not exactly the way to charm over a parole board."

Claire blushed "Sorry," she muttered. "But that guy just….he wouldn't…..he was _so_…..ughhhhhhhh." she realized Ian was still staring at her, waiting for an answer. "Oh! right…..I….. arranged a business deal with Mr.Gates."

Ian looked confused. "But you have no money." he made a face. "_Ugh_, Claire, you didn't _seduce_ him, did you?"

Claire turned bright red "**_IAN_!"**

"Married!" Ben yelled

Riley was practically in tears by then, he was laughing so hard.

"I _didn't seduce him_ Ian," she said, still embarrassed. "I gave him the Blackbeard documents."

He looked slightly angry. "The documents you've been working on for over _two years_? Claire, you were obsessed with those!"

"Do you really think I would be happy running off to find buried treasure while my brother was in prison and I could have done something about it?" she asked quietly. Taking advantage of her brother's silence, she turned to Ben.

"Speaking of the documents, it's about time I gave you these now; you've more than held up your side of the deal." Claire pulled out the envelope out of her bag and handed it to him reluctantly. "Lowering her voice, she whispered "The treasure is located on the island of Nassau in the Bahamas." Reaching into her bag again, she pulled out a giant notebook. "These are all my notes from the past two years." she explained. "Everything you need, including the location of the treasure, is in here."

Handing them over to Ben, she smiled sadly. "I really do hope you find it."

Turning to Ian, she grinned at him. "C'mon-lets go home."

After thanking him one last time, she turned and started to lead Ian towards her car. Ben felt a twinge of guilt. Would he have ever been able to give up the key to the Freemason's treasure? He made a quick decision that he would probably later regret. Dragging Riley back after Claire & Ian, he reached them just as they were about to get into Claire's car.

"Miss Howe, you consider yourself an expert on the subject of Blackbeard and his treasure, right?"

Claire nodded, confused.

"I admit, I don't know that much on the subject, and if we're going all the way to the Bahamas, we're going to need an expert. Plus, you have the _messiest_ handwriting I have ever seen."

Claire still looked confused "What exactly are you asking me, Mr. Gates?"

"Would you like to come with us?"

"_What_?" asked Riley, openmouthed.

"_What_?" Ian sputtered.

"_Absolutely!"_ Claire answered, beaming


	4. Dinner at the Gates

**Disclaimer-**I don't own National Treasure, It's pretty hard for me to admit.

A/N-This is known in my mind as the "Big Historical Monologue Chapter", so I have a few comments about the facts in this. Throughout the entire story, most of my facts on Edward Teach are 100 true (Including the Devil's Triangle) and all of the historical characters are true, but I did a little tweaking in order to have the story make sense. Hornigold actually retired in Britain, not in N.C., and other stuff like that, so basically this is not a good source for your research paper. Also, I tried to make the monologue as interesting as possible, but it's a lot of info, so if you find yourself yawning please tell me and I will tweak it.

Thanks and please R&R!

-------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Four

As Claire drove up to the Gates Manor, she couldn't help but be a little intimidated.

"My God Ian, this place is _enormous_!"

Ian chuckled. "Claire, I'm pretty sure that every residential property in the world looks enormous compared to your apartment."

Rolling her eyes, Claire continued to gape at the magnificent estate framed by acres of lush green grass. "Their son is one lucky kid-he can practically reenact the Battle of Gettysburg on his own front yard."

"And being Ben's son," Ian replied, grinning, "that's exactly what he'll do."

Finally reaching the end of the mile-long driveway, Claire parked the car in front of the Gates' house and sat quietly.

"Claire, are we getting out?" Ian asked impatiently.

"Ian, please be nice while were here. I know you and Ben have….issues, but-"

Ian cut her off "Claire, the man just got me out of jail; I'm not going to try and kill him again!"

She grinned teasingly at him "Just checking. And no refusing to let me go to Nassau with them."

"Claire, you shouldn't be running off on dangerous adventures with Ben, you're just a-"

"Ian" she said threateningly. "I'm twenty four, I'm _not _a kid. I can take care of myself perfectly well. Plus, we're just going on a historical research and retrieval trip that is perfectly _legal_. I'm not going to be in any danger!"

"That's probably what Gates said when he was going to Alaska to find the Charlotte- and he was almost blown up, shot and left to die in a ancient _pit of despair_!"

"Yes, by _you_. Somehow I don't think I'll find myself facing the same problem"

Grumbling about how that wasn't really the point, Ian opened his door and exited the car, slamming the door. Claire grinned victoriously. _Pit of Despair. Hah, never seen Princess Bride my ass!_

_-------------------------------------------------------_

Riley wondered from his rather uncomfortable position behind the heavy velvet curtain why Ian and his sister were taking so long. _What could they possibly be talking about in front of the house that they can't anywhere else? I wonder if I could get their radio feed through a satellite and reverse it to hear their conversation. Nah, the cars too old-probably doesn't have a satellite radio…._

So deep was he in his ponderings that he was quite shocked when he felt someone poke him on the back. In fact, he believed he set a new record for the high jump. Turning around, he was faced with a solemn face framed with a shock of white blond hair that belonged to none other than three-year-old Patrick Gates.

"Uncle Riley, what're you doing behind the curtain?" the child asked loudly.

"SHHHHHH!" Riley whispered furiously. "I'm spying!"

Patrick looked thrilled "Can I spy too?"

Riley moved over to give his godson some space. Honestly, the kid followed him _everywhere_. If he didn't adore the tyke so much it would have been incredibly annoying. Anyway, he really couldn't blame him. If he had to undergo the mind-numbingly boring historical debates that were the basis of the Gate family life, he would grab a chance at some espionage too.

"What are we looking at?" Patrick asked, whispering now that he was spying.

"See that car in front of the house?" Riley pointed to Claire's old Jetta.

"Yeah."

"_Ian's_ in there. He and his sister are coming to have dinner with us." Riley confided.

Patrick's eyes widened. "_Ian_?" The boy had been told numerous stories from his parents about Ian (with most of the violent parts edited out) and from Riley (with most of the violent parts enormously exaggerated). Most of these stories were taught to exercise caution, but Patrick had developed a liking to the "bad guy with the guns". He did have an unhealthy appreciation for villains, Riley considered. He had almost cried when Jafar had died in Aladdin, claiming that "he was cooler that Aladdin."

As Ian threw open his door and stepped out of the car, Riley bolted from behind his curtain, pulling Patrick with him.

"Ben! Abby! Ian and Claire are here!" he called loudly, just as the doorbell rang.

Ben and Abby exited the kitchen, smiling a bit too much for two people were supposedly discussing Thomas Pane.

"Would you like to do the honors, Riley?" Ben asked jokingly, pointing to the door.

"No thanks." Riley answered quickly. "I should watch Patrick over here."

Laughing, Abby strode to the door and threw it open.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Ben's wife was really pretty, Claire realized as Dr. Gates ushered them through the 12-foot door. The natural kind of pretty that made normal-looking people feel self-conscious. Smiling friendlily but cautiously at Ian, she closed the door behind them.

"Please come in, take off your coats." She said in a slight accent that sounded European.

Claire stifled a laugh as she saw a small blonde boy run up to Ian, only to hide behind his mother, peering up at him.

Ian grinned "And who just might you be?"

The boy bravely stepped away from behind Dr.Gates. "I'm Patrick." he declared seriously. "I'm three."

Ian looked up at Ben "He looks a bit like you, Ben. Got the doctor's hair, though."

Patrick had seemed to dissipate the small amount of tension that had been lingering in the room, and Claire had mustered up enough of her minimal social skills to quietly thank Dr.Gates for inviting them over for dinner.

"Please, Claire, call me Abigail." She replied, her eyes twinkling. "And to tell you the truth, I really wanted to ask you more about that document."

Claire stopped staring at the floor, delighted. Obviously Abigail was extremely straightforward, not bothering with polite pleasantries. _Exactly_ her kind of person.

"I've got all my notes and stuff, if you wanted to get the full debriefing." she said excitedly.

Ian groaned good-naturedly "I guess we better postpone dinner, Ben. She's going to go on for _hours_."

----------------------------------------------

Claire sat at the head of the giant round table in the Gates' living room, her notes and papers spread in an arc around her. Ian and Ben were sitting on either side of her, with Abigail and Riley across from her. Riley was looking quite interested in spite of his obvious disdain for history, which was considered an original sin in her book. Ben and Abigail, however, looked thoroughly attentive.

She wiggled in her seat excitedly. Who would've thought that she'd be presenting her findings to the founders of the Mason's treasure? Suppressing a girly squeal, Claire cleared her throat quite academically and began her "debriefing."

"Now, this all began when I was in North Carolina looking for pieces of furniture made in the early eighteenth century in order to study the carvings over spring break."

Riley gave a barely audible snort. She glared at him.

"While I was in an antique store, I came across a desk of that period that seemed to match perfectly with the description of desks of the wealthy. I must say, it's a _billion_ times more beautiful than anything they make today. Anyway, I needed a desk, so I killed two birds with one stone and bought it for a ridiculously low price. I figured that I could study the carvings while I was at home. let me tell you, actually getting it home in a four-door was no easy task."

She winced at the memory of the truck driver who must have hit every pothole from North Carolina to Massachusetts just to annoy her.

"Anyway," she continued. "As I was studying it in my apartment, I found that one of the drawers had a fake bottom, and underneath it were these documents. You can imagine my excitement when I read them and found they were correspondences to Benjamin Hornigold from Edward Teach. With the help of my thesis advisor, I managed to get a carbon dating on them to verify that they were accurate, and then I started the real work of analyzing his letters."

"Why?" Riley asked abruptly. "I thought that Blackbeard didn't want anyone to find his treasure, so why would he tell his pirate buddy?"

Claire smiled enthusiastically.

"Good Question. Actually, what Blackbeard really wanted was to hide his treasure well enough that it would be a legacy that would make him famous: the treasure that no one could find. However," she confided, "He did leave clues to the actual location, because what was the point if there was _absolutely_ no chance of anyone finding it? He just left clues subtle enough that his treasure wouldn't be found until his name was worldly known."

"But wasn't Blackbeard's death unexpected?" Abigail asked. "He was murdered by Robert Maynard, a navy captain, in 1718, when he was only around 30. How do you know that he every actually had time to leave clues?"

"Because he had been giving the first one for two years." Claire answered. She realized that her audience was utterly captivated and grinning, gave a long dramatic pause.

"What was it?" Riley burst out impatiently.

"Well, one of the most famous Blackbeard quotes is the answer that he always gave when someone asked him about who knew, besides himself, where his treasure was hidden."

"That only he and the devil knew where it was, and the longest liver shall take it." Ben quoted softly. "How does that contain a hint to the location of his treasure?

"Well, I didn't notice it until I started reading his letters to his mentor Hornigold. In his last letter, he states that he has a feeling that Spotswood, who was the governor who sent out Maynard to kill him, was after him.

Blackbeard asked that in event of his death, Hornigold make sure that he was buried in the devil's lands. That particular phrase confused me because in that time, pirates were beheaded or hanged, and there was no way Hornigold would be able to get a hold of his body. I realized that this phrase must have some other significance. I connected it to that quote and I realized that when he was talking about the devil, he wasn't talking about the devil, with the horns and all that stuff- he was talking about a codename for a _location_."

"The location of the treasure!" Abgail exclaimed.

"Exactly. But, of course, how would an outsider crack the codename if was something that only Hornigold knew about? So, after tons of reaserch, I finally stumbled upon the location almost by accident."

Claire looked around, extremely amused. "Tell me, what do you all know about the popular myth of the Bermuda Triangle?"

"Not much," Ben admitted.

"Well, the creation of the myth dates back to way before the eighteenth century. The entire region was shrouded in mystery and considered bad luck. It was just the sort of place that Blackbeard would want to hide his treasure. Because of the "bad luck" of the place, most of it would remain unexplored for many years. Plus people might come to believe that the region was bad luck _because_ of his treasure, which he hinted was cursed."

"So you think that the treasure is hidden in the Bermuda Triangle because it's cursed?" Riley asked doubtfully. "That isn't really a lot to go on."

Claire waved his comment aside "I didn't find out all of this information until I stumbled upon one fact. Did you know," she began dramatically, "What they called the area of the Bermuda Triangle before Bermuda was founded?"

"Treasure Island?" Riley guessed hopefully

Claire shook her head and took out an old map, drawn of the Caribbean region. A dotted line ran from Florida to Puerto Rico to Bermuda, forming a triangle.

At the top, in spidery handwriting was written

THE DEVIL'S TRIANGLE

------------------------------------------------------

Driving home, Claire was acting like a giddy schoolgirl.

"I can't wait for this weekend! I can't believe I'm actually going there! To Nassau! With the Gates Family!"

Ian laughed as his sister pulled into the parking lot of her apartment. "Claire, after the story you just told them, I'm pretty sure that they'd take you to bloody Antarctica if you asked nicely. Are you positive you won't let me come?"

"Ian, you're on parole-you just got out of jail _yesterday_. If you leave the country now, they could probably throw you back in for life."

"Yeah," he agreed, as they entered Claire's apartment and started the long trek up the stairs, "But I mean, you're going into the _Bermuda Triangle-_who _knows_ what kind of weird things are there. You need someone to look out for you."

"I'm not going alone Ian. The Gates' and Riley are going too."

"Ben will be looking out for his wife, and Riley couldn't protect himself from a crazed Bermudan monkey. What happens when you run into trouble?"

Claire dug her keys out of her pocket. "For the third time, Ian, there will be no trouble. There will be no crazy Englishmen pointing guns at us. I will be perfectly safe, and capable of protecting _myself_ from a crazed Bermudan monkey if I happen across one."

"What," she asked as she swung the door open, "Could _possibly_ happen?"

As she walked into the room, her mouth dropped open. Her hand fluttered around until it rested on the doorframe.

"What the hell happened in here?" Ian demanded. Turning to Claire, he saw absolute fear on his little sister's face.

"Ian?" she asked quietly. "Ian, call the police."


	5. Ben the Heroic Historian

Chapter Five

**Disclaimer**-I'm pretty sure that everyone knows by now that I don't own National Treasure. But I do own Claire. And Patrick (yay!)

**A/N-** Agent Dawes in this chapter isn't actually a character I created-she was the one female FBI agent in National Treasure-the one who was like "Sir, it's the Hudson. Nothing is visible." Anyway, I looked on yahoo and her name was Agent Dawes. She's actually going to be in the story as I go back and forth from the Gates, Riley and Claire out hunting for treasure to Agent Dawes and Ian back on the ranch. Enjoy!

---------------------------------------------

Chapter Five

Ben simply couldn't sleep. He hadn't been this excited since he had found the identity of the Charlotte more than six years ago. Only the thought of a treasure hunt could get him this restless, and he found himself rolling out of bed, being careful not to wake his wife, and heading downstairs.

Cradling a cup of steamy hot chocolate, Ben sat at his kitchen table and reviewed the books he had on Edward Teach. It was quite an expansive pile, having added a few on the subject to his already massive historical library when he had first met Claire. Flipping to a worn and dog-eared page, he started to peruse the article on the Queen Anne's Revenge, Blackbeard's first ship as a captain. Halfway through the page, his attention was diverted by a muffled noise coming from the living room.

Frowning, Ben stood up. Abigail had been asleep when he had left her, and Riley, who was staying over at their house, didn't wake up earlier than seven unless there was a nuclear war going on. Which only left…………

_Patrick_ he groaned mentally. His son had the tendency to wake up at ungodly hours of the morning to watch TV and play._Where on earth did he get that trait from?_ he wondered.

Trudging to the living room, he opened the door.

"Pat, it's one in the morning- go back to-"

He froze mid sentence as his eyes focused and he realized that it wasn't his son standing in the middle of the living room, but a large black-clad man with a gun in his hand frozen on his rug.

"What the_ hell_-" Ben had time to yell until the man turned and ran in the other direction towards the front door. Sprinting after him, Ban managed to grab his jacket, spinning him around. The man shot at him but missed, instead hitting the doorframe, and Ben managed to wrestle the gun out of his hand and throw him to the floor. The burglar tried to get up but Ben pointed the gun at his head.

"Who are you." he stated, breathing heavily, "And what are you doing in my house?"

"My name is George Derrickson." The burglar answered, holding up his hands in defeat. "I was hired to break in here and steal some old papers. I wasn't trying to hurt anyone."

"Who hired you?" Ben asked

"Why should I tell you?" Derrickson sneered. "He's paid me extra to keep his identity hidden."

"You should tell me because I have a gun pointed at you head." Ben snapped.

Abby rushed in, holding a frightened looking Patrick. "Ben, what's going on? Who is that?"

"Abby, go call the police. Tell them that there's been a break-in."

"Look, no one told me there was a kid." Derrickson pleaded, once Abigail had returned. "I was only here to steal some documents."

Ben exchanged a look with Abby. "What kind of documents?" he asked.

"Some old letters. He said that they'd probably be well-protected, and I should use _that-_" he gestured towards the gun with his head "- to break into any safes that I found."

Ben heard the sound of sirens in the distance. "Who is he? The guy that hired you?"

There was a long pause. "I don't actually know his name." Derrickson admitted. "But he did give me two other addresses that I was supposed to look for the papers in."

"Let me see." Ben demanded. Derrickson reluctantly pulled a piece of paper out from his pocket and handed it to Ben. "I already went through the first one-some tiny apartment a few hours from here. I went through it pretty thoroughly, but they weren't there. This house was the second address."

Looking at the crumpled piece of paper, Ben recognized Claire's address as the first on the list, his the second. The third was Riley's new apartment. Any doubt that the man who hired Derrickson was looking for the Teach letters vanished immediately.

There was a loud knock on the door, accompanied by a muffled "Washington Police." and he gestured for Abby to go open it. AS policemen rushed inside to handcuff Derrickson, Ben dropped the gun and went in search of his cell phone. He had a call to make.

-----------------------------------------------

Claire was sitting on a chair in her kitchen/living room, giving yet another account of what happened when her phone starting to ring. Ignoring the look the detective gave her, she flipped it open.

"Hello?" she asked tiredly.

"Claire? It's Ben. All you all right?"

"I'm fine. My apartment was completely trashed, but I was still driving home when it was broken into." she reassured him. Claire paused. "Wait," she said, confused. "How did you know that my apartment was broken into?"

"Because mine was too. We caught the guy and he admitted that someone hired him to break into our houses in order to find the Teach documents."

Claire froze, evading the look of concern the detective shot her. She had suspected that the break in had something to do with the Blackbeard letters, but this confirmed it. "Ben, I'm sorry. I should have called you immediately after I found out, I just didn't think that-"

"It's ok." Ben interrupted. "Now we know that someone is after us. The FBI has been informed, and they're sending an agent over this afternoon. You should come over so we can decide what to tell them."

She nodded, and then remembered that Ben couldn't see her over the phone. "Right. I'll be over as soon as possible-I've just got to give my statement one more time and call Ian to tell him where I'm going. He's raising hell over at the police station." she said, smiling despite the situation she was sitting in the middle of. "I'll be there in an hour."

"Alright. Be careful."

Hanging up, Ben ran a hand through his hair tiredly. This complicated their travel plans a bit. They would have to use fake names and be as discreet as possible if someone knew about their plans. Someone, it appeared, who was willing to do almost anything to get those letters.

Abby appeared at his side, her hand on his shoulder, "Is Claire alright?"

"Yeah," he responded wearily. " She wasn't there when Derrickson broke in, and she's coming over as soon as she can."

Riley appeared at the foot of the stairs in his bathrobe, looking bewildered. "Um, Ben?" he questioned, "Why are there FBI agents swarming around?"

Patrick, having gotten over his scare, laughed. "Uncle Riley, you miss _everything_. A bad guy with a gun came into the house but Daddy beat him up. Now the FBI is here."

Riley turned to Ben, still a bit disoriented. "_Please_ tell me that your son is joking."

-----------------------------------------------------

Walking into the Gates house, Claire was startled by the activity. There was a forensics team, policemen, and FBI agents everywhere. Amid the chaos a young female agent came and shook her hand.

"Hi Miss Howe," she said smiling friendlily. "I'm Agent Dawes, I'm the lead agent on The Gates' and your case."

Claire nodded "I'm Claire Howe." She blushed. "Right. You already know that."

_My superior social skills triumph once again,_ she thought sarcastically. "Um, may I talk to Mr. and Mrs. Gates? Please?"

"Right this way."

Agent Dawes led her into the living room, where the Gates family was sitting on the couch, talking to the FBI. Claire flinched as she saw the bullet hole in the doorway.

"Hey." she greeted them, plopping down onto an armchair next to them. "So, I'm guessing your morning was as good as mine."

"It was cool!" Patrick exclaimed, who by now was ecstatic about having real FBI agents in his house.

Claire grinned back at him "I bet it was." Looking around she realized that her least favorite new treasure hunting buddy was absent. "Where's Riley?"

Patrick rolled his eyes. "He's _sleeping_."

"He told us he was going to go get changed." Ben corrected. Grinning, he added, "That was an hour ago."

Claire laughed. "I'll go get him-all of us should be here to correlate our facts. You guys finish up with the FBI"

Standing, she headed out of the living room and up the gigantic winding staircase. It was peacefully quiet up on the second floor compared to the bedlam below, and she stopped to admire the beautiful paintings on the walls.

As she came to a fork in the hallway, she stopped and remembered that she had absolutely no idea where Riley's room was.

"Mr. Poole?" she called softly. "Hello?"

Receiving no answer, she started down the first hallway, opening all the doors and peeking inside. Closet, empty room, another closet….

_Aha!_ She thought triumphantly at the fourth door. From what she could make out through the crack in the door, there was a bureau and a shadowy bed at the other side of the room. Plus, she heard someone snoring quite loudly.

"Mr. Poole?" she called loudly.

No response. Just more snoring. Sighing, she opened the door fully and stepped into the room, taking a few steps toward the bed.

"Mr. Poole!" she practically yelled. The snoring ceased and Riley shot up from his bed, "What?" he yelled drowsily "What's going on?"

Claire blushed and stared at the floor. Obviously fallen asleep in the middle of changing, Riley had no shirt on, wearing only his jeans. As his eyes focused, he started in surprise. "What are you doing in here?"

"Ben and Abby thought you should come down so we can correlate our statements." she rushed, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

Realizing his state of partial undress, Riley scrambled over and grabbed a shirt. Hastily throwing it on, he walked toward the door. "Let's go."

By the time Claire got to the door, he was already walking halfway down the hall. She followed him, trying not to smile. As humiliating as that experience just was, Riley was kind of cute embarrassed.

_Plus,_ the evil little voice in her head whispered slyly, _he doesn't look too bad without his shirt on._

_-----------------------------------------_

Please Review! I've become a review-a-holic and i neeeeeeed them.


	6. Setting Sail

Disclaimer: I don't own anything

A/N-This is a long chapter because my school play is this week and I won't be able to update for a couple of days. Enjoy!

Chapter Six:

By the time he and Claire reached the living room, Riley was outright fuming. _She had absolutely no right to come barging into my room like that!_ he thought angrily. _Don't they teach people how to knock at Harvard?_

Stomping into the room, he flung himself down on an armchair, ignoring the looks from Ben and Abbie. Claire entered the room moments later, looking somewhat embarrassed, and Abbie's expression changed from confused to amused.

"Alright." Ben started, "I think we should begin by making a list of people who know about the document."

"Uh, Guys?" Riley asked looking around. "I think it's kind of obvious. Who was here last night for _her-_." he shot a less-than-friendly look at Claire. "-little pirate story who isn't here now? And has a criminal record a mile long? And who's tried to kill us for treasure before?"

Glancing over a Claire, Riley realized that the thoughtless accusation of her brother because he was mad probably wasn't a good idea.

"My brother did not hire someone to steal the Blackbeard documents!" she hissed. "Why would he have someone trash his _own sister's_ apartment?"

"Maybe you're in on it!" Riley accused. "Great way to throw suspicion off by hiring someone to break in and pretend to look for a document!"

"That's not true and you know it!" she yelled. "I realize I probably embarrassed you earlier, but you've had unfair prejudices against me and my brother since we've met, so I suggest you either shut up or……" She looked flustered trying to think up an appropriate option. "just shut up!"

"Claire! Riley!" Abigail shouted. "Both of you stop it! Claire, _no one_" she gave Riley a look "is accusing your brother. Let's focus on trying to find the man who actually did this."

Both muttering under their breath, Riley crossed his arms and slouched down in his chair while Claire crossed the room and sat in the armchair farthest away from Riley.

"Well," she began, "The only person I told about the letters was my thesis advisor, Professor Robinson. He's a fellow Blackbeard enthusiast, and he had helped me on some of my research. When I told him I was giving it to you, he did get a little mad." she said. Riley remembered the phone conversation he had overheard the first time they met.

"But he definitely wouldn't do something like this." she added hurriedly. "I didn't know him very well, but he wasn't the kind of guy who would resort to violence to get some important documents."

Ben frowned. "Is there anyone he could have told?"

Claire hesitated. "He told me that he was going to look for a private sponsor for me. He didn't want the school taking all the credit. But I don't think he had started looking when I told him I was giving it away."

Nodding Ben stood up. "We should have the FBI question him anyway. Maybe he contacted the wrong kind of person. Meanwhile, we should leave as soon as possible."

Riley stood up. "I can get us the next flight to Nassau under fake names."

Claire shook her head. "That's impossible-we'll need fake passports."

Riley smirked "That's not a problem."

"Riley's our resident computer nerd." Abigail informed Claire.

"I prefer _genius_, thanks."

Claire rolled her eyes. "Somehow I'm not surprised."

-------------------------------------------------------

"Are you sure you have everything?" Ian asked her one last time.

"I'm sure. I have all my books on Edward Teach, my notes, and most importantly, the letters." Claire reassured him as she managed to find a spot in the airport parking lot.

"I meant clothes, shampoo, maybe an extra pair of shoes? You know, what _norma_l girls bring when they go to the Bahamas?" he questioned sarcastically as he helped her pull her bags across the lot.

"I'm all set. All I need are my fake passport and ticket, which I'm told Bill Gates will provide when we meet him right here at the front.'

Ian grinned. "I see you've gotten to know Riley"

"THE most insufferable, annoying, arrogant……." she muttered, trailing off when she saw Riley pull up in what was possibly the most gorgeous car she had ever seen. While Ian had gone through his car stage when he was teen, she had absolutely no idea what kind of make it was. All she knew was that it was red and shiny and she _wanted_ it.

"Nice car Riley." Ian remarked, surprised.

Riley adjusted his expensive-looking sunglasses that were made to make guys look cool, but looked kind of awkward on him.

"Thank you." he replied smoothly, his "Rico Suave" demeanor ruined when he tripped and fell on his ass while trying to get out of he car. Jumping up quickly, he threw a passport to Claire, which she failed to catch. Ian had apparently sucked up all the reflex genes as well. Picking it up off the ground, she opened it to see a picture of her with the name "Jane Smith" printed next to it.

"Very creative." she remarked "Where'd you get this picture of me?"

"From your school's website, right next to your confidential files." Riley answered smugly. "By the way, your teachers think you're reclusive."

"That's personal information!" Claire hissed "I could have given you a picture; you didn't have to invade my privacy!"

"You're one to talk about invading privacy!" Riley retorted.

_What the bloody hell are they talking about_? Ian wondered. Claire and Riley's argument was cut short by the arrival of Ben and Abbie, who had just come from dropping Patrick off at the elder Patrick Gates' house.

"Everyone ready?" Ben asked. "Riley, can we have our passports?

Handing them to Ben, Riley explained. "Actually, there were no flights to Nassau this week, so I had to……tweak our traveling plans a little."

"Tweak how?" Abigail asked cautiously.

"We're actually only flying to Florida." Riley explained.

"Then what do we need the passports for?"

Riley cringed. "I rented a boat to take us to Nassau from there."

"But that's a three day trip!" Claire said, horrified. There was no way she was going to spend three days trapped in a confined space with Riley Poole. "We'll have to hire a guy to drive the boat, which could risk our identities."

"It's ok Clare," Ben assured her. "I can drive a boat. I learned in the Navy." Checking his watch, he said "We're going to be late, we should go."

After hugging his sister. Ian looked her square in the eye. "Be careful. No doing any crazy stunts. I'll call you once a day to tell you what the feds have gotten so far."

She grinned. "Aren't you glad you have something to do while I'm away? And while you're helping the FBI, I can rest assured that you're not doing anything illegal."

Ian rolled his eyes "Yes, I'm thrilled. Off you go now."

Hugging him one last time, Claire grabbed her bags and followed Abbie and Riley into the airport. As Ben started to bring up the rear, Ian stopped him.

"Ben" he said quietly. "If anything happens to my sister…." he trailed off, not threateningly, but worriedly. Looking at him, Ben could se how concerned he really was.

"She'll be fine Ian." he convinced him. "We all will."

Nodding, Ian turned and walked back toward the parking lot. He had an FBI agent to meet.

Riley handed out tickets. "You two are going to be right across from us." told Ben and Abbie.

"First class, not bad." Claire commented. Then she saw the number on her ticket. As Riley noticed her glare he explained. "Hey, I didn't want to sit next to you either, but we can't have you presenting your little historical monologue to a complete stranger who pretends to be your buddy."

_This was going to be an extremely long flight,_Claire thought.

------------------------------------------------

Riley was keeping mercifully silent, Claire thought as the plane leveled out. He had his nose buried in some book. Glancing over, she saw the titile: The Curse of The Bermuda Triangle.

"You _believe_ in that myth?" she asked, gesturing towards the book.

"It's not a myth." Riley snapped. "There is documented proof that the number of shipwrecks and plane crashes in that area are a statistical anomaly."

"I thought that techno geeks didn't believe in anything they couldn't understand." she commented skeptically.

"And I thought that history geeks believed in any "myths" they read in books." Riley fired back. "Looks like we both broke the stereotype."

Claire scowled. Why couldn't she ever think up good comebacks like that? She hated it when someone else had the last word.

"You know, it defies the laws of nature, not to mention gravity, that ships and planes could just be sucked down into the water." she argued. "There is no existing power that large."

"No existing power, but what do we really know? Humans have only been on the earth for a few thousand years, while the earth has been around for millions. We have no way of knowing if there is a giant force in the Bermuda Triangle." Riley countered.

"Yes we do! Because we have computer nerds like you who can do practically everything with a laptop, including hack into people's private files!"

"Hey! You're changing the subject!" Riley protested.

Watching the two argue from across the aisle, Abigail smiled. "You know who they remind me of?" She asked, nudging Ben.

"Who?"

"Us."

Ben chortled. "Except they hate each other."

"We weren't so fond of each other either when we first met." Abigail reminded him. "Besides, I think that they'd get along well if they stopped yelling."

Ben recognized the look in his wife's eye. "Abbie, remembered what happened the _last_ time you tried to set Riley up?"

"This is different," she argued. "They're just like us!"

"Aghhh….. just stop talking!" Claire yelled from across the aisle, throwing her hands up in defeat.

"Hey, you started it! I was reading peacefully!"

"Well," Abigail amended "Almost."

------------------------------------

Florida was really bright. Too bright, Claire decided. She had been cooped up in dark libraries for far too long. Squinting, she managed to run into a bench next to the sidewalk. Riley, who was wearing his ridiculous looking sunglasses, looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. Rubbing her knee, Claire ignored him. "Where is this dock place anyway?" she asked Ben.

"Right down the street."

As they neared the docks, the air cooled from the sea breeze. Claire smiled and enjoyed the feeling, tilting her head back. She hadn't been to the beach since she started grad school-she'd been too busy. But years before, when she had lived with Ian, they used to go to the beach all the time. She would swim around and pretend she was Blackbeard, scourge of the oceans. She had been, she realized fondly, quite a geek.

Claire's memories were interrupted when they came to a stop on the dock in front of a ship. She gaped admiringly. This was what she was going to spend three days on? It wasn't quite the dinghy she had expected.

The ship was all shining hardwood, no ugly plastic to make it look like a yacht. It was long, not as long as some of the ships on the dock, but long enough to have an expansive belowdecks, which meant that maybe she wouldn't be squished up to everyone 24/7. It must have been a huge sailboat primarily, since it had a mast and sails, but there had been an engine installed. On the side in shining red letters was the "U.S.S. Dolphin."

"She's beautiful." Ben said, and Claire nodded. It was like one of the ships from her daydreams as an awkward teenager who wanted to set out to sea and be a pirate, or just drift along the ocean. Picking up her bags, she started across the walkway onto the bridge. Throwing her bags unceremoniously on the deck, she went to stand at the very front of the ship, right below the carved figurehead.

Even though she was an insufferable know-it-all obsessed with history, Riley couldn't help but think that she kid of looked like a live figurehead with her head tilted back in the breeze.

_Wow-the sea air must really be getting to me,_ he thought, chuckling amusedly.

As Ben and Abbie climbed aboard (and Riley argued with the dock owned for ten minutes about the price of the ship) the dock workers untied the ship and the U.S.S. Dolphin set sail, with the new crew of four waving (Claire enthusiastically, Riley half-heartedly).

As the ship headed out into the sunset, it looked like a scene from an adventure movie. The four stood at the bow (front) of the ship and enjoyed the setting sun.

"So…" Riley began, breaking the picturesque silence. "Who knows which way it is to Nassau?"

--------------------------------------

Please Review!


	7. Boat Life and FBI Guidelines

Disclaimer: nope, not mine

Kestrel: Ah! sorry about the divider error-those things get erased when I paste my word docs onto I changed it. Since my knowledge of cars stretches to four wheels and shininess, I did the best I could with the car description :)

Loosh: Yay! wow, it's really weird having to respond to someone I already know- I think I already hugged you a million times for reviewing. You can come over and watch NT treasure with me anytime wiggles eyebrows err, that sounded wrong….

A/N-Sorry it took so long to update, my playdirector is a dictator (he just quit drinking Diet Coke-not in the best of moods)-I promise I'll be faster in the future. Please Review!

----------------------------------

Chapter Seven

As Riley's comment broke the awe and wonder of the moment, the foursome dispersed. Ben claimed the position in the small steering cabin on the deck, captaining the boat and checking the radar. Abigail and Claire started to lug their bags down into the cabins below, ad Riley began to set up his tech station on deck to check the weather and God knows what else.

Leaden with luggage, Claire staggered down the dark staircase and dumped everything in the first room that divulged from the narrow belowdecks hallway. The room was dark and musty, covered by knotted wood, with a small oil lamp resting on a lone table in the corner. Expecting bunks, as was common in modernized ships, Claire was surprised to see hammocks nailed into the walls, one raised above the other and accessible by a ladder nailed into the wall. Cringing, she stepped out of the room and into what appeared to be the only other cabin, only to see that that room as well had hammocks.

Abbie was unloading her and Ben's luggage into the room. "Ben and I will take this one, and you and Riley can sleep in the other one." she instructed.

Claire wanted to protest badly, but she knew it would be extremely rude to break up the Gates because she didn't want to share a room with the annoying conspiracy theorist.

"Alright" she agreed hesitantly, and missed the smirk on Abigail's face as she left the room. Venturing further down the hall, she found the one tiny bathroom they had and a small study with a old desk and a small window.

She eagerly sat down and began spreading her papers across it, ready to take more notes. When packed into a tight environment, she was known to retreat into any private space available to keep herself from going crazy. Maybe, she hypothesized, by the time she was forced to go to bed Riley will have already fallen overboard. Hey, she could dream.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Walking down the hallways of the J. Edgar Hoover FBI headquarters, Ian felt decidedly out of place. He'd been to the place dozens of times, but most of them were for questioning. He'd never actually used the visitor's enterance before. He was half expecting someone to recognize him and pull a gun. However, the receptionist he had asked for the location of Agent Dawes was perfectly friendly, and now he was being escorted to the agent's office.

"Mr. Howe?" a voice questioned behind him

Ian turned and was met with a woman who looked strangely farmiliar. She was around his age, perhaps younger, with dark hair and eyes. She was quite pretty, but if she was an agent and they'd met before, then this was definitely someone he needed to stay away from.

"Yes, that's me." he said cautiously.

"I'm Agent Dawes." she informed him. "I'm the lead agent on your sister's case. I guess I should also congratulate you on your recent leave from jail. I had no idea that the state penitentiary system was so..…… lenient."

_Oh Crap_ he thought. _That's where I recognize her from _

She was one of Sadusky's little minions who were on the Declaration case years ago.

"Why thank you." he replied smoothly, ignoring her sarcasm. "As much as I would love to discuss the judicial system with you, I think that the fact that some lunatic is after my sister is a bit more pressing, don't you?"

Following her into her office, he sat down on a chair across from her desk. "I want all the information you've compiled on Claire's case. Names, everything."

"I'm sorry Mr. Howe," she said, not sounding extremely sorry,"But as you are a civilian, I'm not allowed to discuss a working case with you. I can only tell you that we're doing all we can to find the man after your sister."

Ian leaned in toward her on his elbows, eyes flashing, and Kathrine Dawes realized how much she'd underestimated how dangerous Ian Howe could look.

"Look, _Agent Dawes_, I know you have your bloody FBI protocol, but when my baby sister is being threatened, I advise that you take that particular rule and shove it up your ass."

Dawes raised her eyebrows and tried not to look intimidated. "Or what Mr. Howe? You'll steal another National Historical document?" she monotoned.

"No-I'll start conducting investigations of my own, and when I find the guy, you better believe that there won't be anything left to interrogate."

It was rather hard to contend with an argument like that.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Riley stuck his head into the steering chamber. "Hey Ben, I finished my weather analyzation and tracking program. I can scan and extract data for about 200 miles in all directions, so we'll be able to see it a storm's coming. I also installed a tracking device in the boat so we can see our location at all times, in case we drift off course during the night."

Ben raised his eyebrows. "I'm guessing that this is through piggybacking government satellites?"

Riley grinned. "Think of it as my personal way of sticking it to the man."

Killing the engine, Ben yawned and stretched. "What time is it? We should probably head to bed. I don't think we have to worry about a storm tonight, its really calm out there."

Following him out of the steering cabin, Riley protested. "Someone should keep watch? We _are_ in the Bermuda Triangle. Ships don't just disappear out here because they get lost."

"Are you volunteering Riley?"

Not exactly up to sitting up all night, Riley shut up.

As he walked down belowdecks for the first time, Riley crinkled his nose. It smelled really weird down here, all musty and old. And was really dark.

"You're going to sleep in there with Claire," Ben pointed. "Me and Abbie will be right across the hall."

Riley groaned. "You're making me sleep with the mean pirate girl?"

"Riley, there was only two rooms. Please, try to be civil. We're going to have to work together for a while." Ben reasoned

Grumbling, Riley dumped himself down on the lower hammock and tried to get into a comfortable position. The damn hammock kept on _moving_-and try sleeping on a bunch of ropes!

"Ben, my bed won't stop moving!" he complained.

"Riley, you can sleep practically _anywhere_. Just…count sheep or something." Ben yelled from across the hall.

Huddling on his hammock, Riley slowly slipped into a fitful sleep where he dreamed he was being chased by sheep, all which strangely had blonde hair.

-------------------------------------------------------

"We've traced the calls from Derrickson's phone." Agent Dawes explained to him. "They came from a pay phone in Massachusetts."

"Could you work on a voice-recognition program? Compare it to any suspects you might have?" Ian questioned.

"No-we haven't brought anyone in for questioning-we don't want to attract any attention. " she explained. "We're trying to get ahold of Dr. Robinson, but he hasn't been answering his phone, and his students say he called in sick last week."

Ian raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like he's been up to something. Claire said that he was going to find her a private sponser, so maybe he got mixed up with the wrong people."

"He's a renowned Harvard professor." Dawes said skeptically, flipping through his file. 'I'm sure he could find a perfectly legal sponser."

Ian shrugged. "Maybe someone from his past found out about it and contacted him-said they wanted a piece of it. You should do a background check of him, see if he got mixed up in anything illegal before he became a stuff."

Dawes laughed. "I already did-there was nothing. Apparently he's always been a 'stuff' as you british call them."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Yes, you did a _legal_ search. I'll call one of my hackers and see if we can get any real dirt on him."

"Mr. Howe, you do realize that you just told an FBI agent who would very much like to put you back in jail that you're going to employ someone to perform an illegal activity. I simply can't just sit back and let you resort to illegal methods to solve our cases."

Ian turned on her, the dangerous look back in his eye. "Dawes, let's just get one thing clear before we start working together. There's a way that the FBI does things, and there's a way that I do things. If we're going to find the guy who's after my sister, you're going to have to be willing to do some things my way."

Agent Dawes thought it over. The FBI had obviously worked with ex-criminals before, but it was highly unorthodox and frowned upon to let them use their not-so-ex criminal buddies to help solve a crime. Then again, her mentor had once told her that the unorthodox way was usually the best way and "The FBI protocol rules are more like….. suggestions."

And Grant Sadusky was one hell of an FBI agent.

"Alright." she finally relented. "But I want the names of the hackers and any other activies you partake in. We do _nothing_ your way unless I give you permission first.

Ian grinned "Deal."

-------------------------------------------------------------

"Robert Maynar was born July 8th, 1976. Oh no, wait, not 1976..crap…what year was he born?" Claire grumbled to herself. It was almost two in the morning, and she was having trouble concentrating. As much as she hated to admit it, she was going to have to go to bed sometime. Falling asleep while taking notes was nothing new to her, but it caused some painful neck cricks the next morning that she really wasn't up to in a sans-Advil environment. Pushing herself up of her chair, she stumbled down the hallway and into her room.

Light snoring told her that Riley was asleep. Dismayed, she realized that he occupied the lower hammock, which meant that she was going to have to climb up to the top one. While it was only a short five-foot climb, the hammock was then a good foot to the left, which would require a small side leap. _Not_ a good idea.

However, it was that or the floor, so Claire uneasily grasped th ladder and jerkily climbed to the top. Looking to the hammock, she relalized that it looked much farther at the top of tha ladder.

_C'mon Claire, you can do this_ she prepped herself. _You aced your Harvard math midterm junior year, you can make a measly side leap onto a hammock._

Steeling herself, she made an awkward lurch from the ladder and by sheer luck managed to land in the hammock.

Unfortunately, her less-than-precise aim landed her on the _side_ of the hammock, and she had milliseconds of triumph before the hammock tipped and dumped her on what would have been the ground.

However, with the strategic placing of the hammocks, Claire instead, to her horror, fell directly onto Riley Poole.

Please Review! It speeds up the writing process!


	8. Riley's Eyes and Goldfish

Chapter Eight

Disclaimer-I own nothing. darn it.

**Dragonmaster Kurai**- Yay you loving Ian! He's so fun to write, especially when he gets angry or protective (sigh) Why can't there be more criminals like him?

**Ali**-Thanks for reviewing! I tried to get this chapter out as soon as possible! I hope you like it!

**Elfgirloflorien**- Where would any of us be without POTC? Thanks so much for reviewing, I love it when I get new reviewers!

**A/N**- I just wanted to thank all my reviewers! The two new people who reviewed for chapter seven let me know that there was more people reading my story, which made me happy(and powered me into chapter eight) and the reviewers who've been here a while are amazing. Snaps for you guys!

---------------------------------------------------

Chapter Eight

Although her lack of grace, physical and social had gotten her into some pretty embarrassing situations before, Claire was almost positive that this would make her top ten most mortifying events in her life. Maybe even the top five.

Riley's eyes shot open in surprise and he flailed around for a few seconds, disoriented, before realizing that he wasn't being abducted by aliens: a normal human being had just landed on him.

Judging by the blonde hair and face twisted in a horrified expression, it was Claire Howe.

"Sorry!" she whispered loudly. "Crap, I'm really sorry. I was climbing up the ladder thing and jumped…………………."

She trailed off with a strange expression on her face.

Part of Claire Howe's brain was screaming at her to get off Riley and keep apologizing, but the other part was just kind of in a mesmerized trance. Maybe it was because he wore glasses all the time, or because she was two inches from his face, but she hadn't noticed until now how truly gorgeous Riley Poole's eyes were.

They were just so intensely_ blue_, like the turquoise valuables that she once saw in a museum. Blackbeard was known to trade with Native Americans for turquoise amulets, which he would later sell to Europe for astounding prices.

_He could probably sell Riley's eyes_ she thought dazedly. _I'd buy them._

"Helooo?" Riley asked "Claire?"

She jerked out of her trance. Oh Crap. This was _Riley_ Riley. Really annoying, mean Riley made fun of her and her brother. Why couldn't nice, sweet guys have knockout eyes like that? He probably only used them for evil purposes.

She scrambled of him as quickly as possible. "Um….." she stammered. "Sorry about that. Won't happen again."

Realizing that she had no tangible excuse as to why she had gone into some kind of Dracula-type thrall while on top of him, she bolted out of the room.

_I knew hammocks were a bad idea_

Riley blinked in confusion. What had _that_ been about?

----------------------------------------------------

TV was incredibly misleading. All those shows about FBI agents running around with guns and sleeping with their partners. All complete bull.

Then again, Katherine Dawes thought wistfully, if they showed that most of an agent's day was compiled of doing endless amounts of paperwork, their application pool would take a tremendous dive.

At the moment, Dawes was filling out yet another report about a breach in security at some museum. By the eighth page she had stopped caring. Unfortunately, she didn't have a newbie partner at the moment that she could throw all the paperwork on. She didn't have any partner at the moment-not because her partner got killed in a gunfight or was transferred to another unit so they could start dating. She just worked fine by herself.

Her telephone shrieked for attention, jarring her out of her comatose boredom.

"Agent Dawes."

"It's Ian. My guy did a background check on Robinson, and there was nothing. Not even a speeding ticket in his not-so-wild college years at Harvard."

"That's not surprising." Dawes replied, mentally cursing. That had been their one lead.

"However," Ian continued "We checked his email records and he's been sending emails to a certain address with increasing regularity. he started right around the time Claire found the documents."

"You got his _email records_? Howe, _we_ can't even do that!"

"That was kind of the point. Anyway, the email address doesn't belong to a student, so it might be our guy." Ian answered smugly.

'What's the address? I'll run it."

"Um, Drew, underslash Deachat at jmail." Ian answered

Dawes grinned "That might be his name. I'll see if there are any Drew Deachat's living in the area."

She hung up and eagerly pushed her paperwork to the farthest corner of her desk. Today was beginning to look up.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Riley vegged in his hammock, almost done with his book. This was most definitely the life. Being belowdecks warded off most of the heat but let in a small breeze from the deck. He had absolutely nothing he had to do, and he was on a treasure hunt that so far was proving to be un-mortally threatening. No one was there to annoy him……….

On that note, where had his roommate run off to? After she had ran out of the room, he hadn't seen her again, and it was almost mid-afternoon. There weren't exactly many places to hide on the sihp. Ben and Abby would have seen her if she went on the deck, and no human being could spend more than an hour in that smelly little bathroom they had. That left the study-hole, as he had dubbed it, given it's size. Since his book was at a semi-dull point, he rolled of his hammock and wandered over to the study-hole, wondering what Claire could be doing for the hours she must have been in there.

Opening the door a crack, he saw that she was, like he had been, deeply engrossed in a book. There was a shadow of black-inked scribble across one cheekbone, which indicated that she probably fell asleep at the desk. Riley felt a tiny twinge of guilt. After all, he could have gone to find her earlier and………let her apologize again? Something, so she wouldn't be holed up in a small hot cabin.

He opened the door a little more and stuck his head in. "Hello?"

Up to that point, Claire had been tipping her chair back on two legs to amuse herself, but at his greeting she jumped about five feet in surprise and her chair tipped over backwards, sending her sprawling across the floor.

_Oops_ Riley thought sheepishly

"Sorry I………startled you" he stated semi-sarcastically.

Claire blushed and scrambled up of the floor, righting her chair. "Hi." she said uncertainly.

"I, um, came to tell you that, um…" Riley struggled for something to say. "Um, you can come back to the room now."

Claire's eyes flashed "Thank you for your _permission_."

"Hey!" Riley said, affronted. "_You_ were the one who used _me_ as a landing board."

A rather awkward silence filled the room.

Claire tried very hard to keep a straight face. She was _not _going to think about the possible double meanings that Riley's statement had .

_Do not laugh. Don'tlaughdon'tlaughdon'tlaugh. Think of sad and depressing things. Ummm, dead puppies…starving children..Gah, it's not working!_ Claire thought desperately

As soon as he said it, Riley wished he took take the accusation back, and it's rather obvious innuendo.

"What are you reading?" he forced out

"Treasure Island." she replied quickly, glad for the change of subject. She held up the well worn paperback. "Re-reading actually. For about the millionth time. It was my childhood favorite. It probably spurred my passion about pirates. Well, that and too many trips to the beach. And an overactive imagination."

_Dear Lord, Claire stop talking._ she thought

Riley noticed the mountain of small orange crackers atop the desk for the first time. "What are those?"

"Goldfish" she answered. "I eat goldfish while I'm taking notes, it helps me concentrate."

"That's……kind of weird."

Claire shrugged. "Everyone has a vice. Some people drink, some people do drugs or gamble. I eat goldfish."

"You should put that on a tee-shirt."

------------------------------------------------------

Later in the evening, everyone was stretched out on the deck, even Claire. The cool breeze had lured her away from her study-hole and she was now back in her coveted position at the very front of the ship, coincidentally as far away as she could possibly be from Riley, who was relaxing at the back of the ship with Abbie.

"So Riley," Abbie began nonchalantly. "How have you and Claire been getting along?"

Riley snorted. "Do you want to hear about when she fell on me or when we discussed her addiction to goldfish?"

Unfortunately, a very interested Abbie was never able to choose between either of those stories because a loud peal of thunder rocked the air and caused everyone to start in surprise. At the helm, Claire began to feel small wet droplets on her head. The sky darkened as a large thundercloud seemed to form out of nowhere. Another thunderclap sounded, this time accompanied by a flash of lightning that in the new dimness lit up the crew's faces eerily.

"Riley, what the hell is going on?" Ben shouted from the steering cabin.

Riley ran over to his weather-tracking system. "It says were in a calm spot Ben!" he yelled back over the spraying winds, which were starting to pick up at an alarming rate. "This storm isn't on here! _This isn't supposed to be happening_!"

The rain began to fall harder until it was pelting everyone with wet bullets. Claire ran from the head of the ship down to the other three.

"What's going on?" she yelled.

"Nothing!" Riley yelled in frustration. "According to my computer, _nothing_ is going on! Why isn't this storm registering?"

The water was becoming choppy, and waves sprouted, lapping at the sides of the ship.

Claire bit her lip. She had a feeling things were about to get ugly

--------------------------------------------------

"No, I'm not going to wait at my apartment between ten and two for you to come!" Ian shouted. He really, _really_ hated cable guys. Unfortunately, part of coming back from a four-year prison term meant that your cable was pretty much terminated.

"I have a life too you know! You can't assume………"

A dial tone droned in his ear. Ian slammed it down on the hook, only for it to ring again. He groaned and snatched it up.

"What?" he asked agitatedly.

"Howe? It's Agent Dawes." Ian frowned. Dawes seemed kind of shook up.

"Sorry. What did you find?"

"I sent an agent over to Robinson's house to pick him up from some preliminary questioning. The door was open and he found…….."

There was a long silence.

"Ian, Robinson's _dead_."

-----------------------------------------

Thanks for reviewing for the previous chapter guys! I actually do write faster when I get more reviews. It's a statistically proven fact: Reviewing warm fuzzies, and this story is powered by warm fuzzies, since I'm all for alternative fuels. So support my campaign to reduce global warming and review!


	9. The Perfect Storm

Chapter Nine

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Maybe someday I will, and this will all be made into a movie where I get to manipulate Justin Bartha to do anything I want. Sadly, that will probably not happen.

**Dralx**-Haha! I realize that cliffies suck as a reader, but they're _so much fun_ to write! Especially if you have an evil complex like me! Yay you wanting more! I can do that! (wow, it's really late at night. I'm kind of punchy. sorry. :D)

**Elfgirloflorien**- Yes, killing off people is definitely necessary. And it's really fun to get creative in how they die. hah. I just sounded like a serial killer there. sorry.

**Dragonmaster Kurai**- Different things are cool! (Even though I don't exactly know what you were referring to. o well) Yay updating!

**Whisperwings**- I'm collecting the warm fuzzies! Goldfish are amazing. I was trying to figure out somethingClaire could eat and then I thought of the goldfish jingle. Y'know, that really catchy one that was all the rage for a summer. I love jingles. hee

**A/N-**I got a haircut! Erm, yes, I realize that none of you are interested in that at all, but it's like really short and supercurley now. (not that it wasn't before. arg.) Continuing with objects that actually relate to the story, _(ooooo! Who's excited for the Da Vinci Code coming out! Me! Me! Who's really mad that they cast Tom Hanks for it instead of sending Harrison Ford back like ten years in a time machine! Me! Me!)_I realize that I make a billion movie references in this chapter. I'm just going to make a blanket discalimer:I don't own any of them. My obo teacher's cousin was in Posiedon. That's really as close I get. Cheerio!

Don't forget to review:D

----------------------------------------------------

Chapter Nine

When he was nineteen, one of Riley's friends had made him see the movie The Perfect Storm. He had come out of the movie theater swearing that he would never go on a boat ever again. He would stay in his safe little cubicle at the computer programming agency and pity those stupid enough to venture the high seas.

Obviously, he had forgotten this vow days after he saw the movie, but now, clutching his laptop in the middle of what looked like a scene from The Day After Tomorrow, Riley really wished that he had remembered.

Not even in the movies had he seen a storm progress this fast. The waves were now inundating the deck, and his feet were covered by a foot of water. Lighting lit up the sky every twenty seconds (he had counted) and rain painfully hammered his head and every other unprotected inch of his body.

At least his laptop was waterproof.

"We need to get belowdeck!" Ben yelled over the howling wind. "We can seal off the entrance and keep us from getting washed overboard."

Nodding, Riley headed cautiously towards the porthole, careful not to slip.

Ben lead Abbie in first, then started down himself, motioning for Riley to help Claire.

Handing Ben his laptop, Riley grabbed Claire's arm. "C'mon!" he yelled. "You heard Ben, we need to get down there!"

Claire didn't seem to hear him. She was staring at something behind him with huge, terrified eyes. Turning around, Riley saw a monstrous wave advancing on their ship. Like,_Posiedon_ monstrous.

"Run!" he screamed. The two sprinted for the porthole. Claire tripped and fell hard, skidding across the deck as another wave submerged the floor.

Cursing, Riley ran to her and helped her up, glancing behind him. The wave was almost to their boat. Its white tip was curving dangerously as it arced towards them.

"Hurry!" Abbie yelled.

Claire pulled him towards the porthole. Riley ran faster than ever had in his life and silently prayed that they would make it.

They were less than ten feet away when the wave hit the ship.

Riley only felt his feet being ripped from the deck, and then he was sucked into a churning black world where he was spun and pulled around like a ragdoll. The only thing that tied him to reality was his stonelike grip on Claire's arm.

_I'm going to die_ he realized. He felt Claire's hand squeeze his arm, as if she had heard his thought and was trying to comfort him.

_We're both going to die_.

The thought panicked him enough to propel him to struggle with the water and kick for all he was worth, trying to find the surface. Just when his burning lungs were ready to give out, he found himself gasping for air, his head emerging from the water. He pulled Claire up next to him, and he heard her gulp in air as she too rose to the surface.

The ship was about thirty feet away, bobbing like a cork in the deluging waves.

"Can you swim?" Claire shouted. Riley nodded, not wanting to swallow water answering. They began to struggle across the discordant water, keeping a firm grip on each other.

Riley felt rather than saw the next wave. His feet were being pulled out from behind him, and he heard Claire shout a warning.

"We need to go under it!" she screamed.

"_What_? No way!"

"Unless you want to get smashed against the boat, we need to go _under_ the wave!"

Riley groaned, and promising himself that he would never even take a _bath_ again, dived under the water. Claire tugged him deeper down, until he could only see her shadowy outline, an amorphous blob leading him into the depths of the ocean.

He felt a gigantic weight and a strong current over their head as the wave passed over them. He began to swim back up, his lungs starving for oxygen. He ignored Claire's yanking to stay down.

The force of another wave hit him squarely, and he felt Claire's arm being wrenched from his grasp as he once again cartwheeled through oblivion, clenching his eyes and waiting for everything to end.

And then it did.

-------------------------------------

Claire whirled in the water, her eyes burning as she struggled to keep them open, searching for anything that resembled Riley.

And then a strange sense of stillness washed over her as the water turned calm.

Kicking back up to the surface, she burst out of the water and looked around.

The previously apocalypse-looking weather was gone. The ocean looked like glass and the sun was reappearing from behind the clouds, making it bright enough for her to see the ship about fifty feet away, soggy-looking but unscathed. It was like something out of a sci-fi movie:a disappearing storm.

But where was Riley?

Treading water, she turned, looking for any sign of him.

_No. He can't have drowned. He's too annoying to drown!_

"Riley?" she shouted, her voice carrying over the water.

"_Riley_?"

----------------------------------------

Ian was pretty sure that he had broken several important traffic laws getting over to Robinson's house. Dawes' voice sounded over and over, a haunting mantra in his head.

_Robinson's dead. Robinson's dead. Robinson's dead._

Pulling up to the grey stone townhouse, Ian ignored the FBI agents giving him weird looks as he parked his car and walked through the front door.

The house was dark and sparsely decorated, with large rooms and high ceilings. Most of the walls were crammed with bookshelves packed with thousands of volumes. Ian didn't have time to stop and read them, but he guessed that most of them had to do with Blackbeard.

An agent stopped as he stepped into the study.

"Sorry sir, but you can't come in here."

"It's ok Adam. He's with me." Agent Dawes called from inside the room. The agent reluctantly stepped aside, and as Ian entered, he inhaled sharply.

A charred corpse lay in the middle of the room, surrounded by ashes that were once the Oriental rug that covered the floor. The body was burned beyond recognition, the skin red and oozing body fluids.

Ian swallowed hard. "Someone _did_ this to him?"

Dawes nodded. "I'm thinking it might have been torture, to extract information, possibly about the documents."

Ian ran a hand through his hair, worried. If Robinson was dead, that meant whoever did this got the information he was looking for.

Which meant Claire was next.

"Are you sure it's him?" he choked out.

Dawes nodded. "Most of his teeth were pulverized, but I found one that fell out. I sent it to the lab, and they just confirmed its Robinson."

Ian closed his eyes briefly. This was the guy who had been Claire's professor. And he was being identified by a _tooth_.

He had to call her.

Whipping out his phone, he dialed the number of the satellite phone he had insisted on buying her.

It rang ten times before the machine picked up.

"_Hi Ian! I'm fine, so stop hyperventilating wherever you are and go do something productive, as long as it's not illegal."_

He swore and called again. Why the bloody hell wasn't she answering?

---------------------------------------------------

"_Riley_!" she called one last time, desperation leaking into her voice.

Claire heard a splash and turned to see Riley's head emerge out of the water, coughing and heaving in air.

"Riley! Are you okay?" she asked, swimming over to him and grabbing his arms.

"I'm fine," he gasped. "You?"

"Fine."

A peaceful silence surrounded them as they regained their breath and took pleasure in the fact that they were alive.

Riley finally grinned. "Do you believe me now?"

He winced as she punched him in the shoulder. "You almost _died_, you jerk, and you want to know if I believe in your stupid Bermuda Triangle theory? Are you completely _insane_?"

"_Riley! Claire!"_ Ben and Abbie called from the ship.

"We're over here!" Riley yelled.

Ben tossed them a life raft and pulled them in, soaked but alive.

"Is my laptop alright?" Riley asked breathlessly as he fell onto the deck.

Abigil rolled her eyes. "We're fine, Riley, thanks for asking."

"Hey, you guys were probably just making out in the cozy, _dry_ cabins while Claire and I were in _Apocalypse Now_ out here." Riley accused.

Ben slapped him on the shoulder. "Good to see you're ok, Riley."

Riley grinned. "Likewise. At least now Claire has to admit I was right about the Bermuda Triangle. Appearing and disappearing crazy storms? Myth my ass! Admit it, I was right!"

"Thanks Riley. May I have two minutes to catch my breath, seeing that I almost drowned? Your compassion is overwhelming." Claire snapped.

A loud, obnoxious beeping sounded from the cabins. Riley jerked upright.

"Guys, is that a bomb? It sounds like bomb. Jeez, do we _ever_ get a break?"

"Relax Riley." Claire said. "That's my satellite phone. Ian got it for me so he can annoy me from anywhere in the world."

Running down into the cabin, she retrieved it from her slightly damp bag.

"Hello?"

"_Finally_. Claire, do you realize how long I've been trying to call you?"

"Sorry." she apologized sheepishly. "We had some….. bad weather."

Up on deck, Riley reassimilated his techno-station with a few parts missing, being washed away in the storm.

"Riley, I don't mean to be rude, but if that thing can't predict storms, than what good is it?" Abigail questioned.

"Well, I figure that some storms will simply be the result of the intense El Nino year that we've been experiencing due to global warming, as the warm waters off the coast of South America have not been able to move west due to the weakening of the trade winds. _Those_ are the storms I can track and predict. The scary appear-out-of-thin-air Bermuda Triangle storms? Can't help you."

"How reassuring." Ben quipped from the steering cabin.

"Hey," Riley protested. "I _totally_ told you guys that going into the Bermuda Triangle was a bad idea, but did _anyone_ listen to me?"

He trailed off as Claire reappeared from belowdecks, looking pale.

"Guys, I have some bad news."

-------------------------

Sadly, as it is 11:00 on a Friday night, my brain is not functioning creatively enough to provide a cool metaphor for reviewing. So I'm going to cop one from Nike. Just Do It! (please)


	10. The Internet Cafe and Land Ho!

**Chapter 10**

**Discalimer- I own nothing**

**Dralx**-Ahhh, so true-there are not enough books out there with satisfactory cliffies. I should send a letter to Randomhouse. Thanks, I try to touch on everyone in the story so one plotline isn't completely dominant.

**Elfgirloflorien**- Sadly, I don't have a Ian-esque protective older brother to buy me expensive satellite phones-I only have an older sister whose clothes I get to steal. I, do, however, have a younger brother who I will one day probably bail out of jail. Yipeee.

**Kestrel**: Wow, three reviews in a row! I was jumping up and down (while seated, which was kinda awkward) I haven't seen Chitty Chitty bangBang since I broke my elbow when I was nine- but I remember that really catchy theme song it had. "Chitty Chitty Bang Bang…..something something something Chitty Chitty Bang Bang we love you" Everyone need an addiction-why not goldfish! I love making little stories while I eat them, but that's just me. Unfortunately, I decided not to have any serious whumping in this chapter because I'm saving up for the dramatic action scenes closer to the end. I agree with you-compared to what they've done to Charlie in the Numb3rs fandom Riley has escaped curiously unscathed. I literally fell out of my chair at the "borg" comment-I really don't know why I found it so hilarious, but I just did. However, you never know. Riley could very well be a Borg. But a very sexy one.

**Pinkey the Brain**-Yay! I'm so happy that you're opinion of the fic changed. Make sure to tell me if you think it's going downhill at any time!

**Ali**- Seriously, your reviews are like my personal cheer-up of the week. Yay for really positive reviews!

-------------------------------------------

Chapter Ten

Claire looked around at the grim faces seated in her study in an impromptu conference. She had just shared the news of Robinson's murder, a blow that she was still reeling from.

"We should go home." she stated quietly

"Go home?" Riley asked incredulously. "Claire, the crazy pyro who killed your teacher is at home! We're safer here."

"You know, with the victim killed so elaborately, not to mention horrifyingly. it was probably meant as a message to you." Ben mused.

"A threat to stop looking for the treasure." Abigail agreed.

"Well, it worked." Claire said bitterly. "I feel sufficiently threatened. At the moment I'm going to do whatever he wants."

"Claire," Riley said slowly. "You are thousands of miles away. On a _boat_. In the middle of the _ocean_. He would have to be freaking _Poseidon_ to get to you here."

"Riley, I don't think you're seeing the bigger dilemma." she snapped "Robinson was burned to death as a message to me. If I don't come back, he's going to keep on sending me messages in the form of people I'm close to. You can guess that that particular group of people happens to be very small. I have no parents or friends, and I don't know my other professors very well. That leaves my brother. And if Ian's life is on the line, let's make it clear that if the psycho wants us to go home, _we're going home_."

Claire's voice has crescendoed as she went on, and when she finally stopped she realized that she was full-on yelling.

"Whoa…apparently they don't give stress management classes at Harvard." Riley quipped quietly, wincing as Ben kicked him under the table.

"Claire," Ben reasoned. "Your brother has a huge advantage over your professor-he knows that he's in danger. He can take precautions to ensure his own safety."

"You forgot to mention that he's a trigger happy super-criminal. The _Hulk_ couldn't take out that guy." Riley jumped in.

Claire found herself slightly smiling despite her attempts not to.

"Well…there's that." she admitted.

"Plus, isn't he working with that hot FBI agent?" Riley continued. "She can shield him from bullets and stuff." He smirked, obviously thinking that he wouldn't mind being "shielded" by Agent Dawes.

Claire's smile disappeared. "Way to be a sexist pig, Riley." she said darkly

"Anyway," Ben continued. "Robinson also could have been killed to get information."

Claire nodded. "Ian said that it could have been some kind of torture."

"Ouch." Riley winced.

"So we can assume that Robinson told him everything he knew. Exactly how much was that?" He questioned turning to Claire.

"He only knew the clues up to Nassau." Claire explained quietly. "The last one I found recently and hadn't had time to tell him yet."

"Alright, so if his killer is following us, then we can assume that once we get to Nassau, then we're reasonably safe, because he doesn't know where to look."

Claire shook her head. "He doesn't know exactly where to look, but he can take a pretty educated guess. Blackbeard had a headquarters on Nassau-It's obviously the first place anyone would look, and unfortunately, that's where my clue leads us."

Riley groaned. "Couldn't that Blackbeard guy have been a little more _creative_?"

"His headquarters _obviously_ isn't the location of the treasure." Claire replied scathingly. "It's just the place where we need to look for the next clue. It's quite logical really. By that time, Blackbeard was already considered quite a legend, so even after he died the building would be preserved."

"Wait, the next _clue_?" Riley asked. "I thought you knew the _location _of the treasure."

"I _will_, once I find the clue inside his headquarters." Claire shot back.

"Well, apparently you're going to have to do it quickly, since we'll have a crazy arsonist serial killer on our heels." Riley snapped.

"Can you two have a normal conversation without getting into an argument?" Abbie said exasperatedly.

Riley and Claire both grumbled under their breath and left the room.

"Ben," Abigail began nervously, "You don't think this is going to be like last time? We almost _died_."

Ben shuddered, remembering when his wife's life literally hung in the balance, and he had been forced to drop her.

"Hey, it's not going to be like that." he reassured her, holding her against him and kissing her forehead. "None of us are going to die. Unless, of course, Claire and Riley annoy us to death with their incessant arguing."

Abbie chuckled into Ben's shirt.

"I can hear you, you know!" Riley called from his room.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

"We've tracked the guy Robinson was emailing to an internet café a few miles from here. That's probably where Mr. Deachat emailed him from." Dawes updated him quickly as she cut across traffic in the black FBI sedan.

"My hacker couldn't get any information on the guy by tracing the email address." Ian admitted "It was one of those free accounts, so no information could've pulled from the address. Did you have any luck running his name?"

"There aren't any Drew Deachat's on the criminal record database. You know, we never got to question Robinson on this guy- he could be just a colleague."

"Well, right now it's the only lead we've got, right?" Ian replied.

"At the moment, yes. Hopefully the café be able to tell us something about him."

"Wired" Internet Café, was small and open, right by the street with circular tables pushed next to the streetside windows. Ian could see people working diligently on their laptops inside. The café was sandwiched between a clothes store and a pharmacy, nothing suspicious. As he and Dawes entered, a friendly-looking young man smiled at them from a booth in the back of the room. They headed towards him and Dawes sent him scurrying into the back room for his manger with a flash of her badge.

A tall redheaded woman entered with he man and introduced herself as Mariah.

"How can I help you?" she asked cautiously.

Agent Dawes pulled out Robinson's email record. "I have here a list of emails sent by a man we're looking for. He sent them all from here."

"I'm sorry," Mariah apologized. "Most of our customers use their own laptops, so we probably have no record of him." Glancing down at the record, she paused. "Wait…..I think I remember this guy. These are the dates and times sent, right?"

Agent Dawes nodded, looking hopeful.

"This oneman used to come in that time every Saturday." Mariah continued. "That's not unusual, we get a lot of regulars. But this guy always sat in that far corner over there. Even when the place was almost empty. I thought it was strange."

"Could you describe what he looked like?" Dawes questioned.

Mariah shook her head. "That was the other thing-he always wore a Red Socks cap pulled really low over his face, and his coat collar way up, even when it was warm out. I can tell you that he's about fiveten oreleven and has brownish hair, but that's it."

Ian sighed. Well, it was extremely vague, but it was a start. "Did this man ever meet anyone, like another man?"

She shook her head again. The young employee, who had been blatantly eavesdropping, jumped in. "The last time he came in here he was really jumpy though. And he kept looking across the street, Frankly, I was scared he was a terrorist!" he exclaimed eagerly.

Ian tried no to grin. Obviously the kid had an overactive imagination. The only thing that was across the street was an outdoor restaurant, Liberty something.  
"-And there was a girl he was staring at!" the young man burst out.

"Ned," Mariah warned. "You honestly don't know that, don't go making accusations-"

Ned waved her away. "I remember, because, y'know, she was really pretty," he said, blushing slightly. "She was having lunch across the street with some people and he kept looking over at them."

Ian snorted. A guy looking over at a pretty girl? It didn't sound that suspicious to him.

Dawes, looking slightly interested, drew out a picture of Robinson. "Was this one of the people having lunch with her?" she asked.

Ned shrugged. "I don't remember." he answered. "I remember what the girl looked like, though, She was blonde, a little older than me, maybe five four or five….."

Ian had his wallet out at a speed that would make a cowboy proud. He pulled out an old picture of Claire that he carried around of her at her high school graduation.

"Is this her?" he demanded.

Ned nodded. "Yeah, but she was older, and her hair was a little shorter….."

His voice faded out as Ian was lost inside his own thoughts, which were basically screaming all kinds of profanities.

He grabbed Dawe's arm and pulled her out. "You need to run a full search on anyone named Drew Deachat, criminal record or not." he commanded. Dawes held back a remark and nodded. Ian ran his hand through his hair.

"We have a major problem."

--------------------------------------------------------------

"So……….you have no parents?"

Claire turned to see Riley approaching her on the deck.

"It's nice to see you too Riley" she replied sarcastically.

"Hey I was just trying to make conversation. It was one of the first things that came to mind."

Claire simply stared out at the waves for a few minutes.

"My mother died in a car accident shortly after I was born." she finally stated. "My father killed himself when I was nine."

Riley winced, rubbing the back of his neck and wishing he hadn't brought the subject up. "That sucks. Sorry."

Claire shrugged. "Don't be. I never knew my mother, and my father and I didn't spend a lot of time together. It didn't affect me much when he died."

Riley came to lean on the against the railing next to her. "My dad's dead too." he said. "He had cancer."

"Sorry. What about your mom?"

Riley grinned. "She's fine, she has six other people to take care of her."

"Six?" Claire asked quizzically

"My brothers." Riley replied, staring out into the ocean.

"You have _six_ brothers?"

"Yeah," Riley said, chuckling. "I'm the fifth. I was always the quiet one."

"_You_ were the quiet one? Dear Lord, remind me to send your mother a sympathy card when we get home."

"I wasn't that bad, just extremely busy. Everybody was in everybody else's business." Riley replied.

"I wouldn't have survived two minutes at your house."

He laughed. "So, what, is that why you have no friends? Do you have leprosy or something? You can't be near people?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "You really suck at making conversation Riley. I don't have any friends because I like to keep to myself. I'm _not _a leper."

"You're addicted to goldfish." Riley pointed out.

"That doesn't make me a leper!" she insisted

Riley wasn't listening. He was staring out into the ocean. "Do you see that?"

"See what?" Claire asked

"That….. thing! Out there! You don't see that?"

"Okay, you're hallucinating and you're calling _me_ a leper?" Claire said irritably.

"No! It's really there!" Riley insisted. "See that little green sliver?"

Claire squinted out into the horizon. Sure enough, a barely visible green disc appeared, miles away.

"Land Ho!" Riley yelled, waving his arms around like a lunatic and pointing as Ben hurried over.

Ben glanced through his mariner telescope. "Yep, that's Nassau. We should be there in a few hours."

Claire grinned and watched as the sliver of land grew slowly larger. The real adventure was just about to begin.

-----------------------------------------------------

Sorry it took me so long to update guys! Thanks for al the reviews! I broke 20! Yay!

Lets try to break 200! Er, just kidding. But review! It makes for better and faster chapters and happy authors!


	11. The Blackbeard Code

Chapter 11

Disclaimer- I own nothing

**Dralx**- I love that me updating makes people happy! The first time I saw National Treasure I actually could not stand Riley-but after the billionth time I saw it I'm in love with him. Thanks for the conversation complement! An English teacher once told me that I couldn't write conversations to save my life (In more polite form, of course) So I try and work extra hard on those. Hah, you are the only person I know besides myself who will use the phrase "and all that jazz" in a sentence. Rock on!

**Kestrel**- I'm pretty sure that no one has ever written me out the Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang lyrics before. I thank you. I decided to make Riley have a big family because I could picture him as the middle child in a huge family and kind of being ignored and spending all his time on the computer- (sob) Err, maybe I'm getting a little too into this. Wow! You're one of _seven_! I'm only one of four and I consider my family obnoxiously large! I decided to have the semi-bonding scene between Claire and Riley because I didn't want have their arguing get repetitive and boring, so I threw an actual conversation into the mix. Now back to the arguing! (Rubs hands evily)

**Ali**- Thanks for reviewing again! I hope I can post this chapter sooner than the last one!

**Me**- Haha, I read this one and couldn't decide whether I had reviewed my own story really late while I was punchy, one of my friends reviewed it and expected me to know who they were, or more likely you just felt like putting "me". Well, more power to you, whoever you are. Thanks for the review and I tried to update quicker this time because you asked :P

**Isabella**- Yay! You're the second person who's reviewed that I actually know! I'm kind of honored that you actually read my story, and I can agree that fanfiction reading can lead to obsession compulsion.

**A/N**- I case anyone was wondering about my obscure good ship lollipop reference, it's an annoying children's song that I had to dance to when I took tap when I was like, five. I just couldn't resist putting it there. Plus a way overdue shoutout to my beta, whos fanfic name I don't really know, but keeps this story good by making me delete all the shit parts that I try to sneak in. Thanks Jo!

**Chapter Eleven**

Nassau was like something from a children's book. The buildings were pastel colors that shone in the tropical sun, and palm trees were scattered everywhere. Claire took in the beautiful shoreline as the ship sailed toward the docks. She felt like she was walking into a postcard, or a movie set. Clutching her disposable camera, she began to rapidly snap photos of the coast.

Riley announced his presence with a snicker. "You know, if you keep that up you're going to be out of film before we even set foot on land."

"But look how gorgeous it is!" she protested, waving her hand around.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll enjoy it once we're off this floating death trap."

Claire patted the boat fondly. "I like it."

"Yes, of course, after the peaches and cream voyage we just had, who _wouldn't_ have fuzzy feelings for the good ship lollipop?" Riley deadpanned.

"You're such a pessimist!" Claire complained. "Things could have been worse! The ship could have sunk!"

"Yes, thank _goodness_ we were only thrown overboard and almost asphyxiated under the ocean."

Claire threw up her hands in defeat. "I give up! I'm going to go pack."

As she descended into the cabin, Riley relaxed, smirking. Now he could enjoy the view by himself, without anyone to annoy him. He tried to convince himself that it wasn't even the tiniest bit lonely. It wasn't working.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Claire was going to get lost, Riley realized, with surprisingly little amusement. Every time they walked by a particularly interesting building or a street vendor she would stop and gawk in admiration like the greenest of tourists. Since he wanted to get to dinner at the hotel on time, he had designated himself her official babysitter.

"Ben, exactly how much farther is it to our hotel? I'm hungry." He complained.

"Just a few more minutes Riley."

Glancing behind him, Riley groaned and realized that they had once again lost Claire. Running back through the crowd, he scanned around, looking for a flash of blonde hair.

Nothing.

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration and was about to call for Ben when he saw her. Claire was standing next to a street vendor selling bananas and laughing in surprise asthe street vendor's parrot landed on her shoulder.

For a split second, Riley just stood and watched her stroke the stupid bird and acting childishly thrilled when it croaked out a few words. Then he realized that a stupid grin was threatening to burst out onto his face and quenching it, brusquely walked over and grabbing her arm.

"Come on Claire! We don't have time to spend hours searching for you every time you wander off!"

Rolling her eyes, Claire happily waved goodbye to the man and his parrot.

"Jeez Riley, I thought you were the all play and no work guy. Where's your sense of fun?." she muttered

"I'll have _fun_ after I satisfy my crippling hunger."

--------------------------------------------

The message on his answering machine only said, "I found him. Meet me as soon as you can at my office."

Ian was there within ten minutes of hearing the message.

Agent Dawes was grinning like Christmas had come early as she accessed some files on her computer.

"Thank God for Big Brother!" she exclaimed happily.

"Yeah………" Ian agreed, completely lost. "While I love infringement of public privacy as much as the next guy, what does this have to do with our case?"

"We accidentally picked up these emails because we thought that the content pertained to some suspected terrorist attacks. However, when they were actually checked they were found to be completely irrelevant and they were trashed. When I did a search of Drew Deachat or Eric Robinson on anywhere in our database, these were pulled out of the trash."

Scrolling down, Ian could see that they were emails between Robinson and Deachat.

"Bingo." He said, smirking.

--------------------------------------------

The four of them managed to squeeze into a booth in what looked suspiciously like a TGI Fridays. (Riley had insisted on choosing the restaurant.)

After placing their orders, Ben wasted no time. "Claire, I want you to tell us all the clues you've found so far. If we get separated, all of us need to know the clues, starting with the one that led you to Nassau."

"That's reasonable." Claire agreed. "We should all level with each other." Reaching down to retrieve her notes, she started when Riley grabbed her arm.

"Just give us the Cliff Notes version." he warned. "We don't want to attract any attention."

Be looked almost insultingly surprised at Riley's burst of good judgment.

Claire nodded warily. "Alright." she began. "I left off where I found out that the treasure was located somewhere in the Bermuda Triangle, or the Devil's Triangle, as it was called. However, I had no idea where in the Bermuda Triangle it was. So, I scoured over the letters for weeks, trying to find some sort of secret message hidden in the words. I kept coming back to his signature."

She grabbed a napkin and a crayon out of the little kiddie container on the table. Riley grinned. "Do they use purple crayolas at Harvard?."

"Shut up please. Anyway, Blackbeard always signed his letters E.D., for Edward Drummond."

"But I thought you said his name was Edward Teach?" Abbie commented.

"Actually, he was born Edward Drummond, and changed his name later in life, I'm guessing to protect his family." Claire explained. "Now, underneath his initials he always wrote the numbers 1 and 26. There was no explanation for these numbers, and he had them in every letter. So, I tried them as latitudes and longitudes, possible addresses, and many other purposes, but it was really _much_ simpler."

"The alphabet!" Ben exclaimed. "It has 26 letters!"

"Exactly. So, I plugged in the numbers into the alphabet, with E as 1 and D as 26 and go this."

A-23 B-24 C-25 D-26 E-1 F-2 G-3 H-4 I-5 J-6 K-7 L-8 M-9 N-10 O-11 P-12 Q-13 R-14 S-15 T-16 U-17 V-18 W-19 X-20 Y-21 Z -22

"Well," Riley said. "I feel like I'm in the Da Vinci Code, but how does this cool puzzle-thing tell us where the treasure is?"

"Well, while I was looking at the envelopes of the letters, I noticed that there was a sequence of numbers under Mr. Hornigold's address. Now, I had previously looked these numbers over, because all of us are used to such numbers: zip codes. But then I realize that zip codes weren't invented until the twentieth century, so the numbers must mean something else."

She once again returned to scribble on her napkin.

102315152317

"Now, Mr. Langdon, looking at the "Da Vinci Code", could you tell me what that says?" Claire said, smirking as she handed the napkin to Riley.

Peering down at the numbers, Riley grabbed another crayon and quickly translated them.

10 23 15 15 23 17

N A S S A U

"Genius." He breathed.

"Thank you." Claire replied, beaming.

He rolled his eyes. "I meant Blackbeard."

----------------------------------------

Riley yawned his way through most of dessert. "I think I'll catch a cab back to the hotel. All this swashbuckling adventure made me a bit drowsy."

"I'll come with you." Claire volunteered. "I need to do some research."

"Ugh, do you have to?" Riley groaned.

"_Someone_ has to keep you from getting mugged." Claire shot back

"We'll meet you guys back there in a few hours." Ben offered. "Abby and I are going to do some late-night sightseeing."

"Yeah right." Riley snorted. "You two have fun _sightseeing_." He turned and followed Claire out.

Ten minutes later, they still were having trouble hailing a cab. Apparently every driver in Nassau had his Riley-radar on.

"Come on, let's just walk." Claire suggested. Riley hesitantly agreed and they started down the sidewalk.

"So how did you end up in league with Ben and my brother a few years ago?" Claire asked conversationally.

"Well, I was a poor innocent college graduate who was sucked into the evil of corporate America when I was forced to work for a computer programming company." Riley began. "Apparently I was also the only computer programmer who believed in the Gate's conspiracy theory. Working for one on an Ian Howe payroll was too good of a chance to pass up."

"You knew my brother?"

"Never met him in my life. His money, however, patched up any differences I had with the guy. You know, until he tried to blow me up on an eighteenth century boat." he said, laughing.

Claire was silent. Riley glanced over, surprised that she wasn't immediately jumping to her brother's defense as she usually did. Claire was glancing behind them discreetly (well, what she obviously thought was discreetly. Riley was strongly reminded of his dropping-of-the-fork ruse.)

"What is it?"

Claire started to laugh loudly like he had just cracked the funniest joke she ever heard, punching his arm.

"Claire, are you going crazy?" Riley asked incredulously.

"Act normal." she whispered through clenched teeth. Riley just kept staring at her.

"What's going on?" he demanded,

"She pushed him to turn onto a less occupied alleyway. "Walk faster." she urged. "I think we're being followed."

"How the hell could you possibly know that?' Riley questioned.

"Try growing up with a teenage Ian Howe-you get followed a lot." Claire replied. She gulped as a man in a floral shirt and khaki shorts turned into their alleyway.

"That's him." she hissed.

"Way to lead him into a deserted alley!" Riley whispered furiously. "He's probably part of the Nassau-ian mafia!"

"Or the man that killed Professor Robinson. How far is it to our hotel?" Claire asked, sneaking a look behind her again as the man crept closer to them.

" A good mile." Riley replied quickly. "What should we do?"

Claire hesitated. "On the count of three, run as fast as you can."

"That's_ it_?"

"I'm the historian, not the getaway specialist, okay!" Claire snapped quietly.

"Alright. On your count."

"One……" Claire began softly. "Two……."

-------------------------------------------

"We got it!" Dawes crowed triumphantly. "The internet café found this in the dumpster behind their store. It's the laptop Deachat used."

Ian rushed over to it. "Why would he trash his laptop……unless he knew there was incriminating evidence on it!"

Scanning the files, Dawes opened the Internet History folder. her eyes widened. "Howe…you're not going to like this."

"What is it?" Ian commanded.

"His history says he was looking up flights and ticket prices to Nassau."

Thanks Guys! Please Review and I promise I'll go faster than the speed of the government!


	12. Pepper Spray Girl and Unconscious Guy

Chapter Twelve

Disclaimer- I own Claire, Patrick, Robinson (however useful he may be, since he's dead.) and Drew Deachat. I sadly don't own Ben, Riley, Abbie or Agent Dawes. They belong to Disney or one of those large corporate movie companies who live to squash my hopes and dreams. But I love them anyway. Does anyone really care about disclaimers?

**Classicreviewer **- Yay! I love new reviewers! They make my day! I'm glad you like it! Plus I love your name-thing

**Kes**-The whole Dropping-the-fork-ruse was in the second chapter when Riley dropped his fork in order to get a look at Claire rather obviously. Sorry, I forgot that not everyone has this story completely memorized :). However, I love your version of the dropping-the-fork-ruse, because it totally sound like something I would do. :)Yes, I looked back and realized that Claire was getting a little goofy-I blame that on my inability at writing 23-year olds, never having been one.I promise I'll get better. Hah, I'm still saving up the Riley whumpage until the big finale-but I'll include some in this chapter just for you. Enjoy!

**Whisperwings**-Hah, I know what you mean about cliff hangers- I despise them, but they're my personal way of making sure that people don't walk away from my story yawning and throwing virtual tomatoes at me. Unfortunately, I think there's going to be a lot more cliffhangers on the way. Sorry! Yell at my beta, not me! (Hides behind Jo)

**lizzie-harrison**- Hah, don't worry about the whole name thing, I got a kick out of it. I would do the exactly same thing if I was lazy, which is 99.9 percent of the time. Thanks for reviewing, and I love writing this! It's relaxing, in a strange sort of way.

**Elvenrarehunter-**(sqeals) I know you! (NO, wait, not in a I've-been-stalking-you-kind-of way) but I've read you story Silence is Golden and I LOVE it! I've never actually seen any Don't Say a Word, but it was still really well written and supergood! Plus Shaw was alive in it and I heart Shaw because he's such a cool evil sidekick. It's so awesome to get a review from you! Thanks!

**_A/N_**- I realize that I've been updating really slowly (for me) and I apologize. It's due to the fact that my wonderful beta wants me to actually stop and map out my plot like a normal writer, since I was kind of making everything up as I went along before. So I might be updating a little slower, but I promise I'll get better as I go along. And hopefully the plot will make sense! Oh, also there's some extra swearing in the last bit-I apologize, it just for the character's perspective/personality.

Chapter Twelve

Ever since he was nineteen, Ian had led two separate existences. In one, he was involved in every kind of illegal activity imaginable, and news raged about the young criminal mastermind Ian. He was always just Ian, because his last name only existed in his second life, where he was Ian Howe, young businessman with a boatload of money from his dead father. Ian Howe the law abiding man. Ian Howe the brother. His second life revolved around one thing: his nine-year-old sister, who adamantly believed that her brother was right and justice personified.

Claire was the reason that his two lives were kept so separate. Ian Howe was far from being an idiot, and knew someday that Claire would find out about his activities of "questionable legality". She was a smart girl, she would realize that he never let her meet any of his "work friends" or have "business meetings" at home, and she would start to look for answers.

But he vowed that Claire would never get involved with anything remotely connected to his criminal experiences. Never.

Fourteen years later, staring at the screen of a battered laptop, Ian realized that that particular promise was shot to hell. Claire was so deeply involved in this Blackbeard business that all his criminal connections in the world couldn't get out of this mess. He couldn't stop the murderer of Eric Robinson, who, at the moment, might be on a plane, soaring over their heads to the tiny island where his sister was running around looking for buried treasure, ignorantly happy.

He buried his head in his hands and realized that the only way the situation could be worse was if the killer had come upon Claire through Ian's own less-than-model-citizen past.

Which could, actually, be true.

"Did he buy a ticket?" he asked, his voice muffled through his hands.

"I'm running a search on all the airport data bases in the area." Dawes informed him as she typed furiously on her own computer. "If he purchased a ticket under his own name, it should show up here."

She waited as the computer whirred and beeped and generally did other busy computer things until a single page printed out. Dawes reached for it, but was beaten by Ian who snatched it up and scanned the paper quickly.

"He bought a ticket for a flight two days ago." he spat angrily, bringing his fist down on Dawe's desk and causing a few agent to stare.

"I'll call the local police there and tell them that there's a killer on the loose. You call your sister and tell her to get herself and the others to a safe place and stay there." Dawes instructed.

"Wait." Ian objected. "What are the local police going to be able to do? They don't know what Deachat looks like, and he can use a fake name easily. How can they track him? We need to go there ourselves."

"We don't have jurisdiction in Nassau." Dawes informed him wearily. "And we don't know what he looks like either, we're not going to be of any help."

Ian sighed. "So all we can do is wait."

"Hardly. We can work the case from here. We can search for information on Deachat- address, physical description, family, education. We need to find out who this guy is."

-----------------------------------

"…….Three!" Claire finished, and with a quick glance at each other they bolted down the side street.

"Is he following us?" Riley panted. Claire spared a quick glance behind her and ran faster, nodding. The floral man had abandoned all pretenses of subtlety and was sprinting about fifty feet behind them.

They could both see an intersection in about two hundred feet, where the sun shone unblocked by the tall buildings that rose on the sides of their alley, and large groups of tourists strolled down the sidewalks.

"We need to get down there." Claire said, pointing. "He won't take us in public-I hope."

Peeking behind them again, Riley could see that the man was tall and strong-looking, and was catching up to them slowly. This was probably accredited to the fact that neither Riley nor Claire had ever come remotely close to winning any track medals in high school..

There was a soft splatting sound, and Claire turned to see the man with something shiny in his hand.

"He has a gun." Claire informed him as she turned back around. "There a silencer on it though, which means that he doesn't want to alert the people down there. We just need to get to that intersection."

"I hate to rain on your parade Claire, but that's not going to happen. He'll catch up with us before then." Riley said, gasping for breath. He noticed a dilapidated truck on the side of the alley about thirty feet away. They could make it if they sprinted.

"We can break into that truck." he said, pointing. They picked up the pace, the floral man only thirty feet behind them. As they approached the car, Claire dug into her bag. "I have a bobby pin in here- I can pick the lock."

"We don't have time." Riley said, leaning against the truck as the man neared. "Give me your sweatshirt."

Claire shot him a quizzical look, but took off her sweatshirt and handed it to him, comprehension dawning as Riley wrapped his hand in it. She winced as he punched the driver's window, smashing it open.

"Get in." he forced out, unwrapping his hand that was now streaked in blood and unlocking the car.

Claire ran around and opened the door, jumping in the shotgun.

"Riley!" she yelled as a warning, and Riley turned around to see the floral man's fist flying at him. His head snapped back and gave a sickening thud as it hit the side of the truck. He collapsed on the ground, and the man wasted no time in running around the side of the truck pointing the gun at Claire.

She groped in her bag until her hand closed around a small metal capsule. Opening the door, she exited the truck with her hands up.

"What's that?" the man demanded, pointing at the capsule.

"It's hard drive information-my notes." Claire told him, her voice shaking. "That's what you're here for, isn't it?"

The man nodded slowly, and held his hand out. "Let me see it."

Claire brought her hands down, opening the capsule. "See, it has the information in here…." As the man bent his head down to look she blasted him full-on in the face with the pepper spray. He clawed at his eyes and howled in pain, and Claire ran to the other side of the truck, avoiding his blind swipe at her.

"Riley!" she called, propping him up on the sidewalk. "Riley, you have to get up!"

Riley stirred, his eyes hazy looking. "Claire?"

"Yes, it's me. Can you stand up?"

Riley nodded slowly, wincing as his head throbbed. Claire helped him get on his feet and pushed him into the truck. Climbing in after him. she tried to ignore the screaming man on the side of the other window and sticking her unused bobby pin into the car's key engine, blindly poked and twisted around until the truck started to hum loudly. Pushing down the pedal as hard as she could, the truck pealed out of the alley.

She continued down the now-populated street, glancing at the figure still writhing around in the alley. She contined, brushing the speed limit until they were parked outside of their hotel, a large white Mariott.

Sitting back in her seat wearily, she turned to Riley. He was slouched in his seat, his eyes closed.

"Riley?" she asked warily, hoping he hadn't gone unconscious again. "Are you okay?"

"My head hurts." he muttered quietly. Claire let out a breath of relief.

"We're in front of our hotel. Let's go in and fix you up, then we can call Ben and Abbie."

Exiting the truck and blushing as the doorman gave her a suspicious look at her shattered car window, Claire walked over to the other side and helped Riley out.

"He hit his head." she explained to the doorman as he looked startled at Riley's condition. "Um…..sailing accident. We need to get up to our room."

Assisted by the wary doorman, Claire managed to get a disoriented Riley into his hotel room, which was right next to hers. Once she had given the man a generous tip, he left, looking somewhat mollified.

Riley was laid out on his bed, and Claire ran into the bathroom to get some ice and a towel. Grimancing at the small trail of blood that had leaked onto his pillow, Claire picked up his head as gently as she could and laid the towel under it, placing the ice packet on the growing bloody lump on his head.

"What happened?' Riley groaned, wincing as the ice came in contact with his head.

"He punched you and you hit the truck head first." Claire informed his from the bathroom as she gathered more ice for the bruise beginning to flourish on his cheek. Wrapping it in another towel, she laid it against his face. "You're going to have to hold that there."

"But how did we get away?" Riley asked. Claire look up to answer him and felt the trance-like state begin to sink into her again as she looked into his eyes at a close proximity.

_Stop it! _her mind snapped. _He's bleeding heavily and you're thinking about his eyes! Woah...he has really dark eyelashes…_

"Pepper Spray." she blurted out. "I.…ah... sprayed him with it"

I rather awkward silence filled the room as Claire tried her damnest not to look his directly in the eyes and Riley because he was slightly embarrassed at being thoroughly beat up in front of Claire, who had thwarted the guy with some _pepper spray_. It was definitely putting a dent in his ego, right next to the dent in his head.

"I should call Ben." Claire said, standing up from Riley's bed and heading over to the phone. "They're going to want to come back here. The situation has definitely changed."

--------------------------------------------------

Martin Lander sat on the sidewalk curb, rubbing the last of the burning pepper out of his eyes. That sneaky bitch had obviously bought the best damn stuff available: he had been blind for almost twenty minutes.

Deachat was not going to be happy. Flipping his cell phone open, he speed dialed the man, still squinting.

"Hello?"

"Hey boss, it's Lander." Martin started.

"Did you get what I sent you for?" Deachat questioned.

Martin cleared his throat. "No sir. The woman hit me with pepper spray. I knocked out the guy through."

He could hear Deachat cursing on the other line. "Do they know what you were there for?"

"I think so." Lander muttered, shuffling his feet.

There was a rush of static over the phone. "I ask so little of you Martin, and get nothing in return. We're going to have to start the hunt again tomorrow then. I sincerely hope that you will have accumulated enough brain cells by then to help me."

Normally Lander wouldn't take that kind of shit from anyone, but his recent employer slightly scared him. The fellow was a few French Fries short of a happy meal, if you knew what he meant.

He was just happy he was on Deachat's side. He felt a stab of pity for the pepper spray girl and unconscious guy. The girl might have been a bitch, but no one deserved to be "hunted" by Drew Deachat.

-------------------------------------------------------

I ended the chapter without a majorcliffie for once, just to be nice. Thanks for reading and Review! Please! Be nice back!


	13. The Next Clue

Chapter Thirteen

**lizzie-harrison**- Of course I'll include the line about the finders fee! Ha, Riley harped about ti so much in the movie I couldn't possibly let it go. Of course, that won't come until the end, if they find the treasure.

**Kestrel**- It IS a conspiracy! The government is trying to cover it up! Rage against corporate America! Hah, sorry, had to get that out of my system.To answer your question, it has absolutely nothing to do with Ian, he's just wallowing in self-imposed brother guilt. He's thinking that someone might have found out about Claire's whole Blackbeard thing because they were keeping tabs on him. Hah, I knew you'd love the floral man! Sadly, now that he actually has a name I can't call him floral man anymore. I'm glad you approved of the whumpage! Since you've reviewed, like, every chapter amazingly I thought I owed you at least some Riley violence. Looking back, I was a little skeptical over Claire's being able to start a truck with a bobby pin. I mean, everyone can pick a lock, but start a car? O well. Ahh, I was SO distracted during the movie by Riley's eyelashes! They were, like, a foot long! Oh man, I wanted to rename the Chapter "Pepper Spray girl and Unconcious guy" but it wouldn't fit. :(

**Elvenrarehunter**-Hah, I love lines like "a few French fries short of a happy meal." I have, like a billion of them, like "A few logs short of a roaring fire" and "A few crayolas short of a 64 pack." hah, I could go on all day, but something tells me you would stop reading. Wait! You're not supposed to like Martin! (oops. I suck at writing bad guys) I get a cookie! Yay! (muches on cookie) Do I get a cookie every time I update?

**Whisperwings**- Yay! I'm glad you liked the non-cliffie chapter. Sorry I took so long to update-high school is a bitch, pardoning my French.

**Classicreviewer**-Yeah, I know Isabella! We're buddies from school! (waves) Man, if you ended up going to our school too that would be really weird. You probably just know her from her kickass stories though. Thank her for me for telling you about my story!

**OriontheHunter**-Wow, this is your first NT fanfic? I'm honored-even though there are a LOT of better ones out there, you read mine. J Thanks!

**A/N**- Err, I'm leaving a space where you can scream obscenities at me for taking forever to update. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ok, now that you've got that out of your system, I'm sorry! I'll try to be quicker! But isn't screaming obscenities at a computer screen fun? Do it again, just for effect.-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Continuing, please forgive me for the slight Ben bashing in this chapter. I heart Ben, but this was needed for those pesky plot things. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter, and **_please_** Review! When I don't get a lot of reviews I go into a funk and can't write.

---------------------------------------------

Chapter Thirteen

Despite growing up with five rowdy brothers, Riley never drank much. Never having been described as a tactful person, alcohol further loosened his already loose tongue, and usually resulted in awkward situations he later regretted. So after a few mortifying scenes in college, he swore off getting drunk.

But based on his painfully throbbing head, he had gotten completely and thoroughly smashed last night. The only thing that was missing was the annoying light making his eyes hurt. He opened them and realized that it was dark out, and he was in an unfamiliar bed.

"Riley? Are you awake?"

He froze at the feminine voice. There was a girl in the room. Crap, he must have gotten _really_ plastered.

"Riley?" a man questioned this time.

This was a voice he knew well. But what was _Ben_ doing here? Rolling over slowly and wincing as his head gave another throb, he saw Ben and a pretty blonde girl standing over his bed. Everything came rushing back to him. The treasure hunt, Claire, the floral man, his _head_. He didn't have a hangover then, just a bleeding head wound. Somehow his situation had worsened.

"Ow" he muttered, running his hand over the back of his head until it came in contact with the blood-encrusted ridge. "Do you guys have any Advil?"

Claire quickly ran into the bathroom and returned with a glass of water and two red pills. Riley sat up, grimacing, and swallowed them dry. Claire rolled her eyes halfheartedly and drank the water herself, looking a little shaky as she resumed her seat next to his bed.

"Are you feeling nauseous or delirious?" Ben asked him while peering at his eyes with a flashlight.

"Nauseous? No. But the bright light in my eyes is kind of making me dizzy." he quipped weakly. "Do you mind?"

Claire snorted. "He's fine Ben. If he had a concussion he'd be puking all over us and fainting."

"I'm just checking. You really gave us a scare, Riley," Ben replied gruffly, clicking off the flashlight.

As the Advil began to dull his pain, Riley felt his embarrassment return. Ben and Claire were hanging around his bed like he had died or something.

And there was the fact that he was always the one who got injured. Which obviously meant that by now he was designated as the "guy everyone had to take care of."

"I'm fine." he protested, further propping himself up. "It was just a bump, you and Abbie didn't have to come back to the hotel."

Claire stared at him disbelievingly. "Riley, you had a severely bleeding head wound. You should probably be at a hospital right now."

He waved his hand at her and winced as he realized that it was the same hand presently streaked in blood. Claire's eyes widened as she saw it and Ben started.

"Riley, what the hell happed to your hand?" he groaned. "Did you punch a wall or something? There are glass shards in it!"

Claire bristled slightly as Ben's tone suggested that Riley had done something obscenely stupid. Which, of course, he had, but it was an obscenely stupid move that had saved her life.

"He punched a truck window in so we could escape." she informed him defensively. "If he hadn't, we probably would've been shot."

Ben raised his eyebrows at Claire's tone, and she blushed. Riley tried to look nonchalant, but he was a bit ecstatic at having someone stick up for him.

"Well, I put some Bacatracin on it, so as long as it doesn't open up again, you should be fine." Ben instructed. "Don't pick at it." he added firmly as Riley's hand reached for his wound once again. "I'm going to go back to my room. Try not to get into any more trouble until tomorrow morning, okay?"

Riley grinned at him, trying not to be offended. Ben didn't mean to sound belittling, but sometimes he felt like a troublesome kid that Ben felt obligated to drag around.

Claire yawned and rose from her chair, stretching. Riley expected her to leave for her room too, but instead she plopped down on the couch a few feet away.

"What are you doing?" he demanded as she snatched a pillow from a nearby armchair and rested her head on it.

"I'm trying to get to sleep. This couch is damned uncomfortable though."

Riley sat up. "You don't have to stay here. I'm _fine_, I'm not going to slip into a coma overnight!" he said angrily.

"Yeah, but your cut thing could open up and bleed everywhere, so Ben told me I should stay here."

Riley's mild irritation turned to outright resentment. "I'm twenty six, not twelve! I don't need a babysitter! And you don't have to obey him!"

Claire also sat up, looking annoyed. "Riley, you almost died today, Ben is just concerned. And I'd be here even if he hadn't told me to. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to go to sleep."

Dropping back down on the couch, she seemed to fall asleep immediately, leaving Riley to try to decipher what she just meant. As the minutes passed by, his eyes drooped and he slid down, relaxing. He was just about to succumb to sleep when Claire spoke again.

"Riley?"

"What?" he mumbled.

"Thanks."

Riley's eyes opened, puzzled. "For what?"

"You know, the whole punching the truck in to save our lives thing." she whispered. "I really did not want to be shot by that guy, but I probably wouldn't have the guts to punch in a window."

Riley grinned, glad she couldn't see his face. "No problem." he said nonchalantly. "It barely even hurt."

"Don't lie, Riley." Claire said, snorting.

"Alright, maybe it hurt a _little_."

----------------------------------------------------

Claire had been fourteen when she found out her brother was a criminal. Ian could remember the day as if it was last week; it had been October 22nd, and she simply walked up to him and asked him if he was really a businessman. He had figured she was old enough and gently laid out the entire story. He was a criminal, but of course he never hurt any good people if he could help it. Above all, he pressed that she would never be in danger because of his job.

He remembered her, sitting across from him at the kitchen table and grinning.

"I always knew you would suck as a businessman."

The rest of her high school years had passed on without any trouble, until a particular fraud incident where he was almost caught and would have been given life in prison. Luckily, his men had been trained well and they managed to extract themselves from the situation in time. Claire read about the plot in the newspaper and connected the dots. She had cornered him in the study the next day and made him swear that he would leave behind his criminal practices.

"What if you had gotten caught?" she had demanded, her eyes brimming with angry tears. "Ian, if you keep on doing this you're eventually going to be put in jail! Then where will you be? Where will I be? Did you ever stop to think that I would go to _foster care_ if you were put in prison?"

The last statement had struck a chord of guilt, and he agreed to stop all illegal activity and be the businessman he had pretended to be for years.

Of course, this promise had lasted all of a week. Ian Howe needed the rush that breaking the law gave him, like druggies needed their rush of heroin. He had retuned to his men, and said nothing to Claire. She would be going to college in a year or so, and would be blissfully happy.

Two years later, after he had lost all connection with his sister, Ian Howe regretted not telling her more than anything.

"Howe!"

Ian jerked his head up to see Dawes staring at him.

"Are you alright? You were in a trance or something."

He grunted and ran a hand through his hair tiredly. "Just revisiting old memories." Dawes nodded and resumed looking at the stack of papers she was holding.

"Hey do you know if Robinson was Claire's thesis adviser her sophomore year in college?" she asked. "Isn't that usually when they appoint those things?"

"What does that have to do with the case?" Ian snapped. Dawes looked surprised at his sudden moodiness.

"I was wondering how long they had known each other. Was he?"

"I don't know!" Ian barked. "We weren't speaking then."

Dawes dropped her papers on her desk, clearly expecting a story. "May I ask why?"

"……….. I told her I was done with illegal activities and she walked in on some…..negotiations when she came to surprise me over spring break." Ian muttered. "We didn't speak for a year. Can we please get back to the case now?"

Dawes raised her eyebrows and picked up her files again. That explained a lot about Ian Howe and his bordering-scary protectiveness of his sister. _They must_, she thought, _have been some pretty scary negotiations._

_-------------------------------------------------_

"So you still haven't told us the clue that lead you to Blackbeard's headquarters." Abigail interjected as their small hot car sped down the street to their destination.

"I haven't?" Claire asked, surprised. "Oh. This one was relatively simple. In the eighteenth century they sealed letters with wax with an emblem imprinted on it."

She pulled out a yellowing letter from her "historical bag of tricks", as Riley had come to call it. She showed Abbie the crumbling red circle on the back flap.

"Usually this wax seal had the family crest or whatever. However, Blackbeard imprinted a heart with an arrow flying toward it, as depicted on the flag of the Queen Anne's' Revenge. However, inside the heart are two numbers:4 and 13. This, using the numerical decipher, is HQ, or headquarters. So, obviously we need to look for someplace in the Headquarters that has the arrow and heart engraved into it."

Riley made a face. The back of his head was itching terribly and making him fidgety. "But won't most of the Headquarters be closed off to tourists?"

Claire shrugged. "Usually they let me in places when I tell them I'm doing a research paper from Harvard. They like the publicity. If not….."

Abbie grinned. "Then we'll have to do it you way honey." she teased Ben. "Just jump over the "No Entrance" rope and tallyho up the stairs!"

As they entered the building, four pairs of eyes started to roam the walls and ceiling of the expansive building. Claire immediately started for the study, and noticing her departure, Riley gestured to Abbie and Ben and followed.

"Why do you think it's in the study?" he asked, catching up to Claire.

"Secret hiding places are _always_ in studies." she informed him. "Haven't you ever read a Sherlock Holmes book?"

Ben was studying Blackbeard's bookshelves; they were arranged curiously, and there seemed too many for the number of books he had accumulated.

"Excuse me," he asked, tapping a tour guide on her shoulder. "Have the bookshelves been moved in any way?"

"No sir." the guide replied. "They've been that way since Teach's time. We tried to take them out to renovate them, but they were built into the wall."

He thanked her and began counting the bookshelves. There were exactly thirteen. He waved over the others.

"Look," he said quietly, pointing. "There are thirteen bookshelves. We should look on the fourth row of the thirteenth."

Claire nonchalantly strolled over and examined the thirteenth bookshelf, pretending to have an interest in the books. Pushing a few of them aside gently, she spotted a carving in the corner. Peering down for a closer look, she could se that it was burned into the wood. A small heart and a miniscule arrow. The arrow, she noted, was pointing downward at the floor instead of at the heart. Walking briskly back to Ben, Abbie and Riley, she grinned and nodded.

"I found it. There's and arrow pointing downward and a heart. I think I know what we have to do, but we're going to have to come here tonight, when no one is here." She smiled nervously. "I guess we're going to have to do things your way, Ben."

The four were so busy quietly celebrating that they failed to notice the man pretending to study an antique lamp with his back turned to them. He wasn't wearing a floral shirt anymore, but Martin Lander was still hard to miss, unless you were really distracted. Which, they were.

As soon as Claire, Riley, Ben and Abbie left, he whipped out his cell phone.

"Deachat? I have them. They're going to come here to tonight, they found their clue on some bookshelf."

Deachat sounded happy, an emotion that sounded eerie with his voice. "Excellent. We'll be waiting, of course. We should arrive as soon as the museum closes and find somewhere were we can observe them without being seen,"

"I'll bring the stun guns and rope. Do we need anything else?"

Deachat's voice became sinister in a way that made Lander's hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"Bring your gun too, Lander. We certainly don't need _all_ of them."

-------------------------------------------------

Ahh! I added a cliffie this time because their so much fun! **_Please Review_**! I promise I'll update faster! I broke 40 today and it made me so happy I wrote the entire chapter! I swear I'll make the next one full of action and all that jazz if you guys review!


	14. Break In and Attack

Chapter Fourteen

**elvenrarehunter**-Witty saying are the best! Yay! More cookies! (hoards cookies) You gat a whole cake for reviewing!

**Kes**- Hah, it's ok, i love you being my pseudo-beta. I changed all that stuff you said was wrong. I KNEW you were going to catch that inebriated line, butI really wanted to use the word inebriated:) It makes me sound smart, or maybe that's just me. It has the opposite effect when I use it the wrong way. Damn.

**SongofNature**-Yay! Someone actually enjoys my cliffies! I made another one in this chapter just for you! Dont' worry, I'll defend you from the flying objects!

**Crazy Little Emily**-Yay! New Reviewer! Thank you for reviewing and i'm glad you like the story!

Disclaimer-I don't own anything

-----------------------------------

Chapter Fourteen

Claire rummaged through her suitcase, frowning. She hadn't packed a lot of dark clothing, mostly just pastels and whites. Ben had instructed them to wear dark or black colored clothing in order to "blend in" when they broke into Blackbeard's Headquaters.

The trouble was, she had packed thinking that they would be partaking in legal, non-sneaky activities.

Abbie strolled into her room, already set in a black jeans and a black tee-shirt. "Are you ready? Ben said we should leave in five minutes." She surveyed the clothes-strewn state of Claire's room. "I guess not."

"I don't have any clothes!" Claire groaned, and for a moment Abbie smiled, thinking that Claire, for once, sounded like a normal 24 year old.

"Come on, you go to Harvard! I thought they despised color there! You must have a whole shelf of black clothes!"

"Yes but I didn't pack them to go to the Caribbean!" Claire answered. Ben and Riley filed into her room, both swathed in black. She looked from person to person incredulously. "Am I the only one who didn't know we were supposed to bring _raiding clothes_ on this trip?"

All three looked rather uncomfortable. "Well…." Ben explained. "Of course we were planning to keep this venture strictly legal, but…."

"……Illegal stuff just sort of comes to us." Riley finished

Claire rolled her eyes "Like I haven't heard _that_ excuse a billion times." she sighed. "Oh well. Abbie, do you have a shirt I can borrow?"

Abbie nodded and walked back to her room, returning with a black button-down, which Claire put on, now completely dressed in black. She looked down at herself and groaned. "I feel like I'm in the mafia."

Riley grinned. "Welcome to the History Squad."

Claire burst out laughing "You guys have a _name_?"

Ben looked a little hurt "I thought it was cool."

Claire smiled "No, it's good. I like it." Her eyes sparkled with restrained laughter and, she couldn't help but let out another jibe. "Do we have codenames too?"

Ben snorted and pointed to Riley "Ask _Genius007_ over here."

Claire didn't even try to cover up her laughter.

--------------------------------------------------

Martin Lander was hideously uncomfortable. He was pretty sure that he was going to be digging splinters out of his ass for the next week. That guide chick had taken forever to close up, and scrunched up behind a large desk is not the most accommodating place for a 6'3, two hundred pound man.

His radio let out a burst of static and he pulled it, with some difficulty, out of his pants pocket. That would be Deachat, snug as a bug in a rug in his car a mile from here, waiting until he was done to enter the house. Something about not letting the Gates party see him, but Lander figured that he didn't want to get involved in the brief violence that was going to take place in this study.

"Lander." his radio squawked "Lander, are you in position?"

"Affermative" he answered softy. "I'm waiting for the Gates and company to arrive."

"Good. You know what to do. Don't screw anything up."

His radio signal died, signaling that Deachat had hung up.

Tucking the radio back in his pants, Lander unconsciously patted the gun in his other pocket. He had his orders. Two of the Gate's party would be joining Deachat in the hunt for Blackbeard's treasure, whether they liked it or not. His boss had claimed that he needed them.

The other two…….well, lets just say that the tour guide would get a nasty surprise when she opened the Headquarters tomorrow morning.

Riley's gut twisted as they crept up to the back door of the Headquarters. It wasn't, of course, his first break and enter or trespassing on private property, but he had never done it in the dead of night. The darkness just added a whole new level of creepiness.

Ben pulled out a laser cutter, a handy little tool that he had borrowed from Ian.

"Riley, are sure that the security alarm is off?" he asked, pausing before cutting through the door lock.

Riley nodded. "We're clear, Dogood369" On the way to the Headquarters, he had worked some of his computer magic and dissolved the security system of the building. It had been a joke, really. Obviously the government didn't think anyone was going to break into some old museum.

Ben chuckled at his Riley-appointed codename (Which was chosen both because of his obsession with the Silence Dogood letters and Riley's opinion of him as a do-gooder) and began to slowly laser through the door lock.

Claire nudged him from behind. "What's my code name?" she whispered curiously.

Riley snickered, earning a glare from Ben.

"Leper451" he answered, delighting at the look of indignation on Claire's face.

She opened her mouth for a retort that Riley was already prepared to rebut when a small click silenced them. Abbie smiled triumphantly.

"We're in"

-----------------------------------------

Lander tensed as he heard a faint creak and a shadow swung across the study floor as a door down the hall slowly opened. Hushed voices floated closer as his targets crept towards the study. He noiselessly eased his gun from his pants.

He would wait until they found the next clue, what his boss was looking for.

Then he would strike.

----------------------------------------

Riley held his breath as Ben swung the door open.

Nothing happened.

He sighed in relief and Claire gave him a thumbs up.

"Let's go." Ben said softly, motioning. "Don't turn your flashlights on until I've closed the door behind us."

One by one they filed through into the Headquarters. The deserted old hallway leading to the study looked like a haunted mansion, with the moonlight from the door making the spider webs hanging in the corners shine.

As Ben shut the door, they were plunged into almost absolute darkness. Riley felt a shiver run down his spine at the disturbing quietness. He had at least expecting there to be some crickets chirping noisily in the background. He had forgotten that there were no crickets in the Caribbean.

Four flashlights clicked on simultaneously. Riley felt a tad better seeing the nervous look on Claire's face.

"Uh, guys?" he whispered, "Can we _not_ split up this time?"

"We should stay together." Ben agreed. "Nobody wander off-"

He stopped and noticed that Claire and Abbie were already halfway down the hallway. He and Riley shot each other sympathizing looks and hurried after them.

"Keep an eye on Claire, okay?" Ben said under his breath. "I need to look out for Abbie, so she's your responsibility."

Riley nodded, trying not to think of what Claire would do to Ben if she found out he had assigned him to her. Pepper Spray would probably be involved.

Looking back on that moment much later, Riley realized how much that responsibility he accepted so lightly would affect his next few days.

However, as they followed the girls into the study, Riley's main thought was on getting the clue and hightailing it out of there. The silence was starting to get pretty unpleasant.

Claire and Abbie were congregated around the bookshelf, examining the sign burned into the wood.

"Is it some kind of weird code thing again?" Riley whispered, edging up next to Claire to examine the sign.

She turned her head and grinned at him, and Riley took a surprised step back, not realizing how close they were. It was strange-most girls today were prettier from far away, and close up they were disconcerting-too much makeup, Riley thought. But illuminated in flashlight, Claire was actually prettier.

"It's actually much simpler than that." Claire responded, breaking him out of his reverie. "See, the arrow should be pointing at the heart, but it's pointing down at the floor instead."

Abbie crouched down and knocked on the floor. "It's not hollow." she said, disappointed.

Claire chuckled. "Of course not. That would be way too easy. Over the years, people would notice a hollow floor. Does anyone have a crowbar?"

"Yes, of course," Riley deadpanned. "I've got one right here in my pocket. Would you like the four or five footer?"

Claire studiously ignored him and accepted the small crowbar Ben handed her. Wedging it between the floorboards, she began to push it down. They could see a small glimpse of metal beneath the floor.

Claire continued to push, but it really wasn't getting anywhere.

"Here" Riley offered, kneeling down to help her. Together they managed to pry the floorboard loose enough to see that it was attached to a few others, making a small square that popped loose with a little more effort.

"Thanks." Claire panted, and Abbie smiled to herself.

Underneath the floor was a metal hatch, a handle laying flat on the side. Giving Claire a break, Ben tugged it, and it creaked open, rusty from disuse.

The foursome peered inside, and a simultaneous gasp was let out as their flashlights shone down a tight spiral staircase leading downward under the headquarters.

"So……" Riley started "Who wants to go down the creepy pirate tunnel first?"

Claire had already hoisted herself into the hole and started down the stairs, taking her flashlight from Riley with an excited smile. Riley thought that he never saw someone look so thrilled about descending down under an ancient decaying building during which they could possibly be killed.

Oh, no, wait…..he had.

_I guess it runs in the family_, He mused, chuckling to himself.

Lander crouched, waiting for a signal that showed they had found something. Berating himself for not finding a hiding place where he could see, he strained his ears. They were pulling up floorboards, and then there was a distinct sound of creaking metal.

"So….." One of the men said quietly. "Who wants to down the creepy pirate tunnel first?"

Lander recognized the voice as the man who he had pummeled in that alley. He scowled. Apparently he hadn't hit him hard enough. He would fix that this time.

There was a thudding sound and he realized that one of them had begun to descend the tunnel they found. Now was the time to act.

Cocking his gun, he lept up behind the desk and started to shoot.

Riley's only warning was the click of a gun before a giant figure exploded behind him and placed a bullet neatly into the bookshelf next to him.

The man didn't stop at one, however. Apparently he had enough cartridges to last him through both World Wars and then some, and bullets started to rain down upon all four of them. Luckily, in the dark his aim was off by a mile, or they would all be full of holes.

Yelling in surprise and fear, Riley ducked behind the heavy desk chair. With his abandoned flashlight pointing in the man's face, he could see though the gaps in the chair that it was the man who had attacked him and Claire in the alley yesterday.

Searching to the side, he saw that Ben was shielding Abbie behind a bookcase, and most of the bullets were falling a foot shy into the opposite wall.

Claire was ducking inside of the hatch, the shots zooming over the floor.

And then the fire ceased.

"Alright" the man drawled, still pointing his gun. "Now that I have your attention…."

Riley and Claire shot a frightened glance.

"Who the hell are you?" Ben demanded from behind the bookcase.

"You could have gotten someone killed!"

"That was the point." The man replied. "And you can call me Lander. I'm working for a fellow named Deachat. I believe you already know about him."

All four tensed. It was official. This was the lackey of the man who was after them.

"Now, I need Claire Howe and Benjamin Gates to step over here, please. You're going to have to come with me."

Shaking, Claire slowly climbed out of the hatch, her hands in the air. Riley saw Ben start to step forward, and shook his head at him. Ben had a wife and kid. The last thing he wanted to do was go with Lander, but it was time that he took one for his best friend.

"I'm Ben Gates." he stated shakily, standing from behind his chair.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Ahhh! Cliffie! I might review a little slower this weekbecause I'm taking finals. But I could probably squeeze one in if you guys reviewed! (smiles innocently) Oh dear, I'm such a review slut.

**Er, shameless self advertising here, but I just wrote a National Treasure Oneshot that isn't related to this story called In Another Life about our favorite charecter ever, Ian. If you R&R'd I'd be much obliged!**


	15. Responsibility

**Chapter Fifteen**

**Disclaimer**-Err, at the moment I only own five dollars, one of which I just spend paying library dues. You really don't want to sue me. National Treasure isn't mine.

**Elvenrarehunter**-Cookies! (dives onto cookies) Yay for reviewing! Hah, I loved the raiding line too. I got it from this time when my older sister was going to go teepee one of her friend's houses on Halloween and my little brother was like "Woah, nice raiding clothes." Haha, Ben's codename came out of the blue when I was trying to find something sufficiently noble. Oops, you were totally right about putting Deachat instead of Lander halfway through the chapter. I fixed it, but I do it all the time, so if you spot another one don't hesitate to tell me. Hee, I wanted Riley to do something self-sacrificing and noble, since Ben hogs all the noble-ness in the movie. Thanks again for reviewing! Keep it up!

**Whisperwings**-haha, the evil cliffie strikes again! Sorry, I have a morbid obsession with writing cliffies, but see! I'm updating soon! yay, I'm glad you think it's getting good!

**Classicreviewer**- Ha, thanks. it's good to know I'm not the only one. I'm seriously addicted to reviews now though. Don't worry about not reviewing every chapter, I certainly don't expect you to. Just drop me a line every now and then so I know someone's reading this thing. Ha, I totally jumped five feet in the air when you said you didn't go to hall and was like AHH! PSYCHIC! How do you know what school I go to! But then I remembered you and Isabella were buddies and she probably told you. Don't mind me and my spazziness.

**Crazy Little Emily**- haha, I'm reveling in my evilness! However, I updated fast, which redeems me somewhat, right?

**Kes**- Yay! Stamp of approval from my pseudo-beta! (P.S. that's what I'm calling you from now on) Wow, I'm psyched that this is your second favorite chapter! Out of curiousty, what was your first? (waves hands enthusiastically back at you) OMG did you see I FINALLY named the chapters? Two of them were from your ideas, which I need to give you credit for. Whoops, back to the authors note.

**Silveni**- Thank you SO much for reviewing! Hah, I'm so glad you reviewed after reading all of this, it must be kind of tiring. I have to practically take a nape after writing every chapter. I know I already responded to your other review, but thank you SO MUCH again for reading and reviewing my one-shot, which I was about to delete cuz no one was reading it. Hah, the Ian in a dress comment was one of my favorites, and a milestone in that it was the one part of the story that my beta laughed at. yay, I'm glad you love it so far!

**A/N**-I promised that if I got some reviews than I would update once more before heading into final week (gulp) and you guys totally came through! Yay Reviews! So this is my last chapter until next week, so review to keep my spirits up during finals or I'll go into writer's block!

Oh, and I totally forgot, I finally named the chapters! I have to thank **Kes**, a.k.a. my pseudo-beta for giving me the names for chapters 5 and 12. (5 was actually supposed to be Ben the Heroic Historian AND Riley the Short Shirtless One, but it wouldn't fit) Thanks!

**To Everyone-I changed my pen name from tigerlily2391 to WalkingInMemphis23. Don't worry, it's still me. That pen name was just really old and I needed to change it. I hope it doesn't cause any confusion! **

--------------------------------------------

Chapter Fifteen

Riley stood, sweating profusely in front of Lander as Claire gaped at him from behind the man holding the gun. If Lander in any way had their pictures or knew their identities he would have no trouble realizing that Benjamin Gates was most definitely not standing in front of him.

Luck was on his side. Lander simply stared at him for a moment before nodding.

"Get over there with Howe, Mr. Gates." he instructed, motioning with his gun. Riley almost passed out with relief and joined Claire.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?" she whispered, barely discernable. Riley shrugged helplessly and motioned for her to be quiet.

Deaf to Claire, Lander was now training his gun on the bookshelf Ben and Abbie were hiding behind.

"Mr. Poole, Mrs. Gates?" he asked coolly. "Could you step out from behind the bookshelf?"

Ben and Abbie warily walked out in front of Lander.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you really won't be needed for the rest of the journey." Lander apologized, cocking his gun. "Mr. Deachat sends his apologies."

As Ben and Abbie's eyes widened, Riley realized with growing horror that he had not saved Ben's life by taking his place, but rather condemned him to death.

As Lander raised his gun and Ben and Abbie clung to each other, Claire bolted from Riley's side.

"Stop it!" she screamed, pulling his gun arm down.

Riley yelled in protest as Lander lashed out, quickly striking Claire across the face. She recoiled and took a step back.

"That's for spraying me in the eyes with goddamn pepper!" Lander snarled. "Try stopping me again and I'll shoot you between the eyes, damn Deachat's orders!"

Riley glared at him and pulled a frightened Claire out of his reach.

He could do nothing but watch in terror, however, as Lander once again trained his gun on Ben and Abbie and prepared to fire. Riley thought that he should be thinking up some kind of a brilliant ploy to save them, to distract Lander. Like Ben had saved him from Ian all those years ago when he lit a flare inside of the Charlotte.

His mind was completely blank of any idea. As Ben squeezed his eyes shut and shielded his wife, Riley could only stare, frozen to the spot. His best friend was going to die in this must old study because he was stupid enough to take his place. Riley closed his eyes, unable to watch, and wondered how the hell he was going to explain to Patrick that he got both of his parents killed.

Lander hesitated for two seconds, a burst of conscience, before pulling the trigger.

---------------------------------------------

Ian paced in his apartment, staring with irritation at the telephone. He needed it to ring right now.It could be Dawes, with a lead. Hell, he would even welcome a call from his cable guy.

But what he really needed was a call from his little sister confirming her living state of being.

She had called last night, hurried because Riley had just been attacked. Ian didn't give a monkey's arse about Riley, but had been concerned to learn that Claire had also been present during the attack and knew that the man had been after her notes, and thus presumably working for Deachat.

Unfortunately, she hadn't been able to get his name. Claire had called him the "floral man" but Ian strongly doubted that that was his street alias, so he had nothing to go by. That last thing that she had said was that they were going to check out some museum the next day and she would call him when she got back. Thus his pacing.

He threw himself into a nearby armchair and rubbed his forehead tiredly. Once Claire got back from her bloody treasure hunt, he was either going to lock her up or send her to a nunnery. The way she was going, Ian was going to work himself to an early death by worrying.

-----------------------------------------------------

A hollow click echoed through the study.

Lander incredulously stared down at the barrel of his gun and couldn't believe his damned bad luck. His gun had run out of bullets.

A moment of awkward shock, surprise, and fear held the room for a few long-lasting moments as everyone stared at each other in disbelief.

Ben, having gotten over the shock of not being shot, decided to take advantage of the moment and grabbed the spindly chair behind him.

Lander, broken from his stupor, saw Ben reach for the chair and scrabbled for his stun gun.

Claire gave a short scream as Lander shot Ben and Abbie with tranquilizers, dropping them immediately, precisely at the same time that Ben hurled the chair at Lander's head, effectively knocking him out.

Claire and Riley's mouth's dropped open as three people fell to the floor at once, making the study look like a twisted version of the last scene from Hamlet.

They turned to each other, realizing that they were the only conscious people left in the room.

"What the hell do we do now?" Claire asked Riley semi-hysterically.

Riley blinked, not used to people looking to him for guidance. He snuck a look to Ben to see if he was waking up anytime in the next few minutes and could provide helpful insight on what they should do.

Nope, Ben had a tranq dart lodged in his chest. He wasn't assuming any leadership roles too soon.

"Well, we need to get out of here," Riley started, stating the rather obvious. "But we can't leave Ben and Abbie with Lander, because he could wake up any moment and kill them."

Lander's radio gave a few short bursts, and Riley and Claire glanced at each other in horror, remembering Deachat.

"Riley, he could be on his way here by now. We need to get out." Claire appealed.

Riley ran over and grabbed Ben by the arms, dragging him towards the door from which they had come.

"You take Abbie." he panted."We need to get them somewhere safe, and then we can run."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Drew Deachat waited in his black rented car for Lander to finish up and call him over. The man was taking an unbelievably long time. For someone who had claimed to be an expert, he had fouled up every plan so far. All he needed to do was get the blasted notes from Claire Howe that would lead them to the treasure. After he failed that, Drew had realized that they would need Miss Howe herself rather than her notes to guide them to the treasure; she obviously wouldn't carry them around anymore. He hadn't planned to bring Claire Howe into his scheme until later, but he could improvise. The Gates man could help too, but the others would have to be eliminated.

Deachat felt a small stab of pity for Abigail Gates and Riley Poole, but it was fleeting and was quickly overshadowed by the driving force in his life: his constant lust for the treasure. He was close enough to smell it , after so many years of searching. Everyone else was simply a pawn. This treasure was his life, his destiny: he was born to find this treasure. Nothing could prevent him from having it.

His radio gave short burst and he eagerly snatched it up.

"Lander?" he barked "Are you done yet?"

Lander's voice was muffled and hoarse. "Boss, they got away."

Deachat felt his anger welling up in hot waves. "_What!_"

"I shot Poole and Mrs. Gates with tranqs, but Poole hit me with a chair. I just woke up and all four are gone."

"Why the fuck _didn't you_ _just shoot them_?" Deachat hissed, infuriated.

"I ran out of bullets." Lander admitted, sheepish.

Deachat held the radio away from his face and breathed deeply, composing himself intill calm washed over him like an anesthetic. He was _destined_ to have this treasure. Claire and Gates could run, but in the end he would find them.

"I'll be there in five minutes." he spoke gently into his radio. "Be ready to go, we're going to have to find them before Gates and Poole wake up. Their pace will be slow since they have to drag them."

"Yes boss." Lander responded, sounding wary. He always seemed slightly scared of him and his fluctuating temper. _He simply doesn't understand,_ Drew thought sympathetically.

He started his car and pulled out his cell phone. He had planned on making this call once he obtained Claire, but he might as well make it now. He needed a mood lifter, and Claire Howe's brother was just so much fun to play with.

----------------------------------------

Ian was just about to fall asleep when he was jarred by the shrill ringing of his phone.

_It's about bloody time_, he thought, running over and plucking it from the wall.

"Hello?" he answered roughly. There was a short silence, and then a cold, calculating voice began to speak.

"Hello, is this Ian James Howe?" it began.

"Yes," Ian replied, confused.

"My name is Drew Deachat. I believe we share a mutual acquaintance."

Ian was too shocked to speech. His mouth opened and closed, and a chuckle emitted from the other end.

"At the moment, I'm driving towards a particular museum in which your sister is located. She's going to be busy for a little while, so I wouldn't try calling her. I don't think she would pick up, seeing as her phone is also currently located in my car."

Ian felt his blood run cold and sweat started to form on his forehead.

"What the hell do you want?" he croaked out.

"I thought that was quite obvious, Ian. I want the treasure."

With that memorable parting line, Drew hung up the phone and smiled to himself as he drove. He felt better already.

--------------------------

Riley and Claire had dragged Ben and Abbie out the back way of the Headquaters and down the road until they came to a bus stop. Laying them out on the benches, they had retreated to behind some bushes and called an ambulance.

Riley watched them be loaded on to an ambulance, after the EMT's determined that they were unconscious and not dead. He was wracked with guilt at leaving Ben and Abbie behind, but they didn't know how long it would take before the tranquilizers stopped working, and they couldn't afford to be slowed.

He had hastily scrawled out a note to Ben and placed in his pocket to help him when he and Abbie came around

_Dear Ben_, he had scribbled. _Claire and I had to get you somewhere safe until you woke up so we could get away from Lander and Deachat. Don't worry, we'll be fine. _

_I'm sorry_.

_-Riley_

As the ambulance's shrieking siren muted, they climbed out of the bushes and dusted themselves off, keeping a wary eye out for any cars that could contain Lander or Deachat.

"So," Claire began softly, turning to him. "Where do we go now?"

Riley looked at the frightened girl in front of him and realized that Claire seriously expected him to make all their decisions now on.

"Claire," he began. "I'm really not the right person the ask-"

"Well then who the hell is the right person to ask!" Claire yelled, the hysterical note creeping back into her voice.

"The right person to ask just got hauled off in an ambulance!" Riley yelled back. "I'm the techie guy who providesthe witty commentary! I don't make group decisions!"

"You're Ben's partner, you've been on all your crazy adventures together, and you can't trust yourself to make decisions?"

"The last time Ben made us split up I lost the freaking _Decleration of Independence_!" Riley snapped "So don't ask me where to go! _I have no idea_!"

"_Neither do I_!" Claire screamed at him.

After a long minute of angrily staring each other down, Claire turned and sat on the side of the road, putting her face in her hands.

"Sorry" she said, her voice muffled. "I'm kind of crazy right now. I'm new to this whole being-pursued-by-a-psycho thing."

Riley dropped down beside her. He remembered what Ben had said to him when they had first entered the museum.

"_Keep an eye on Claire, okay? I need to look out for Abbie, so she's your responsibility."_

The last time Riley had been responsible for something, he was eight and it was a goldfish. The poor bugger had died within a week. After that his parents made sure that he didn't have any more pets.

Riley sincerely hoped that in the last twenty years he had gotten slightly better.

"Well, lucky for you, I have been pursued by a psycho before." he began cheerily. "So the first thing we should probably do is find some shelter, like a restaurant or hotel where we can decide where to do instead of duking it out on the streets."

Claire laughed weakly and nodded. "Alright."

Helping her up, Riley and Claire started down the dark street, checking behind them every few minutes to see if there was anyone following them.

"So I saw a Mexican place on the way to the hotel yesterday-"

"Absolutely not. I hate Mexican"

Riley chuckled, glad to have some semblance of normality back into their conversation.

"C'mon Claire, we're not going to be _eating_ there………"

The two continued down the street, their muffled conversation fading as they disapeared into the night.

----------------------------------------------

I took a break from the cliffies just because I didn't want to leave you hanging while I took my finals. See, I'm not evil _all _the time! Please review to cheer me up from Final Hell!


	16. Deachat Unveiled

**Chapter Sixteen**

**Disclaimer**-I don't own National Treasure. Oh, and as a footnote, I'm not trying to rip off Dan Brown with the whole "Alter of Sangre" and his "Sang real" holy grail thing. "Sangre" is the Spanish translation for blood, which I thought was befitting.

**Elvenrarehunter**-Yay, I'm glad you liked the chapter! (And I can never get that enough! Yes, I realize that's vain of me :))

OMG yes Ben DOES hog all the nobleness. I love the guy, but everyone else in the room is getting squished by his giant nobility complex! Ha, I totally took the Lander scene from Schindler's list. My sister was seeing it for her modern euro class and I had to quiz her. The hitting with the chair thing, however, came from The Mummy. (Hah, I love how I get influenced by this political work of art and then an action sci-fi movie. Yes.)

Believe me, I have wanted to give Ian a hug MANY times. (er, does that sound wrong? continuing..) Thank you for being understanding about my finals. Tell Ian that you're being very patient and to shut up and start being distressed about the freaky phone call he just received.

Don't worry, being a nutjob is fun! You get those cool white squishy coats….

**Crazy Little Emily**- Hah, I'm glad you liked the anti-cliffie. Unfortunately, this chapter is going to have THE cliffhanger of all cliffhangers (cringes) sorry.

**Lizzie-** **Harrison**- Thanks! like Ian too 'cause they actually gave him some depth in the movie that I could build off of. Of course, he can still be murderous and mean, but just to the bad guys. Don't worry, there will be no convents in this story. Maybe if I write a Sound of Music one there will be, but National Treasure and convents don't mix J

**Whisperwings**-Thanks! I just took my math final today and it wasn't as hard as I thought (despite me studying for precisely two minutes,) Happy Almost-Senior time! My sister's going to be a senior this year (officially, since she's had senoiritis since she was, like, twelve) Hopefully I'll get this chapter up by Thursday or Friday (I write the responses first, so at the moment it's Tuesday)

**Classicreviewer**- Don't worry, Ben and Abbie are still going to be in the story, just separated from Riley and Claire. Yay! I'm glad you like my mysterious crime lord persona! (collects snaps) He actually becomes a lot less mysterious in this chapter, but don't look to the end! It'll spoil the cliffhanger! (evil laugh) enjoy!

**Kes**-Hah, I was thinking the EXACT SAME THING as I was writing the chapter! There was actually a small section where Lander was wondering why " Poole" and Mrs. Gates were getting all snuggly while they were about to be shot. (not using the word snuggly, obviously) and why "Gates" was being all protective of Miss. Howe. Sadly, it got cut because apparently it wasn't relevant. But I did manage to squeeze in a mention of Patrick, just for you! Don't worry, he will return! (hopefully) Ahh, Riley was definitely a born leader. I'm assuming that by Took you mean from Lord of the Rings? I always did think that Riley would be an amazing hobbit……………

**Mrs. Pace**- Never fear, Riley and Claire will hook up, this story isn't RileyOC for nothing! You must be patient, however! And pardon my morbid fascination with people's pen names, but would Mrs. Pace refer to the amazing Charlie Pace of the late band Driveshaft? If so, I'm jealous. Thanks for reviewing!

**Silveni**- (puts on smart cap) Well, Deachat is definitely in the "Ian"-ish role in the way that he's the bad guy. They have absolutely nothing in common, though. (Like Deachat abuses his poor lackey while Ian was buddies with his.) Ian, however, is not Ben. While he is certainly not the villain, he's certainly no Ben either. There will be no dashing in to save the day for Ian. If by the "Ben" role you mean the protagonist, there's a lot of them. Ben and Abbie are certainly going to be there (once they wake up-hehe) but mostly it's Claire and Riley toughing it out against the crazy psycho. Now that I've given you a less-than-scholarly-analysis about my plot, I'm glad you like it! I am completely stymied as how to answer the "no killing" plea (Though I like your 'even Ben' remark. Hee.) All I can say is simultaneously no comment and I like happy Disney endings. My literary genius snort will reveal itself in time. I'm glad you liked the fish part! That was actually drawn from a very long story of how I killed my own fish at ten.

**A/N**- Er, short don't-kill-me plea here. Sorry I'm kinda bashing Mexican restaurants in this chapter-I had a bad experience with food poisoning at one when I was twelve and I'm still a bit bitter. So sorry! The Alter of Sangre is fictional, so don't go to Nassau hoping to resurrect someone. Another apology for the swearing present in my story since about chapter two. Hope no one's offended. Also, YAY! I broke my chapter record for reviews! A HUGE thank-you to my reviewers for helping me be ecstatically happy during finals week, something that hasn't been achieved...well….ever.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter Sixteen

---------------------------------------------------------------------

The Mexican Restaurant, "El Sombrero," was noisy, bright and diverting. As they entered, there was even a cheery cactus mascot handing out menus. Normally Claire would hate such a gaudy establishment, but right now it was perfect. She needed to be diverted.

A man appeared next to them, smoothly asking if they wanted a table.

"Somewhere in the back, please." Riley suggested quietly. The waiter gave him a knowing smile and Claire wanted to punch both of them.

Following Riley though the maze of tables, they slid into a booth in the back. She leaned back against the cool polyester cushion and closed her eyes, reveling in the quiet.

The waiter gave Riley another "You sly devil" look and left, leaving them facing each other over the red and yellow checkered tablecloth. Riley planted his elbows on the table and propped his hands on his fists.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked Claire, noticing she still hadn't opened her eyes. She shook her head slightly and he tried again.

"Food?"

Claire cracked open one eye. "Do they have goldfish?" she asked ruefully.

Riley snickered as a reply and Claire closed her eyes again, desperately wishing for some baked cheesy relief.

She was jolted out of her yearnings by a soft bulky object hitting her in the head.

"What the-" she started, sitting up in surprise. Riley was grinning triumphantly and curious, she picked up the package now residing in her lap.

She looked up in shock at Riley and held up the offending object: a large package of goldfish.

"Where'd you get this?" she asked incredulously, already beginning to tear open the top.

"I brought it along. I thought it would probably be helpful if you started hyperventilating over some old parchment or something." Riley chuckled. "Little did I know…"

Claire scooped a handful out and began to munch, feeling her mind clear and sharpen at the first bite. She was floored at the fact that Riley, the one who had referred to her as a "leper" more than once had actually brought along goldfish to make her feel better.

"Thanks Riley." she said, bewildered yet strangely thrilled. "That……that was really nice of you."

He looked somewhat embarrassed, even though he couldn't wipe the triumphant smile off his face. "Don't be too blown away, I stole it from your suitcase."

Claire continued to eat, still glancing at him every few minutes and beaming.

Ruffling his hand through his hair, Riley searched for something to say. "Do you feel better?" he asked hopefully, and Claire nodded, grinning back at him.

It was a nice moment, Claire realized later, a happy moment in the midst of chaos. It had been then that she realized that she had a raging crush on the guy sitting across the hideous tablecloth from her.

Count on her to develop fuzzy feelings while being pursued by a murderous sociopath.

She, of course, had to end the happy moment by pulling out her notes.

"We need to get back into that house." she insisted, perusing the notations she had made the night before.

Riley shot her a look of weary disbelief.

"Okay, on a list of our priorities right now, getting the treasure is about number four. Let's work on _staying alive_."

"No, now it's most important." Claire insisted. "Deachat is obviously not going to stop hunting us until either we find it or he finds it. It's imperative that we find it first."

Grumbling about how craziness ran in the family, Riley leaned over to look at Claire's notes, trying not to notice the tempting proximity to the note-taker.

"What's that?" he demanded, pointing to an underlined phrase in Claire's notes. In red, she had written "_Alter of Sangre?_" in bold.

Claire flushed and shuffled the paper behind the next sheet of notes. "Nothing, it's not important." she said too quickly, and Riley snatched the paper out of her hand.

"It has "Blackbeard" and "Deachat" written next to it." he pressed. "It looks important to me."

"It's just a myth." she protested. " I shouldn't have written it there, I-"

"A myth like the Bermuda Triangle?" he reminded her smugly. "C'mon, let's hear it."

Claire hesitated. "All right. There is a _story_ that with his treasure Blackbeard buried a sacred Aztec alter that he had named the "Alter of Sangre," or the Alter of Blood."

"Sounds pleasant." Riley commented.

"Hey, _you_ wanted to hear about it. So Blackbeard stole this altar from the Aztecs because it was told that it could bring people back to life."

Riley raised his eyebrows. "Bring people back to life? Like from the _dead_?"

"Yes, Riley, from the _dead_. Where else would they bring them back from?"

He shrugged. "Hey, you never know. So-how did this dead thing work? Do you need some kind of creepy Aztec voodoo or something?"

"Well, from documents they've concluded that you would have to have the body you wanted to resurrect somewhere nearby-and you needed _copious_ amounts of blood. Like, _pints_."

Riley shivered. "Ugh. So did it work?"

"No one knows." Claire stated. "But after he died, it was never found, leading people to believe that he had buried it with his treasure."

Riley shifted. "Well, that's…...fairly creepy. But what does it have to do with us?"

Claire leaned in and lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Well, it would be any Blackbeard enthusiast's dream to get their hands on that alter. Imagine raising Blackbeard himself!"

Riley could tell from the gleam in her eye that this Alter of Sangre was something she dreamed about. It was the look Ben used to get in his eye when talking about the Gates treasure.

"Claire," he persuaded, leaning farther in, "You do realize that Blackbeard wasn't the nicest of guys, right? It probably wouldn't be the sharpest idea to raise him up from the dead."

"Oh, he would be completely out of his time! He wouldn't have any idea how to use a modern gun or something like that."

"Claire, using a gun hasn't really changed since the nineteenth century. _You just pull the trigger_."

"I _know_ that, Riley. Lived with a crime lord here!" Claire protested.

"Yeah, no kidding. Been threatened by said crime lord!" Riley fired back, edging closer to her.

"_Ugh_, why does it always come down to the fact that-" Claire stopped mid-rant as she realized that she and Riley were nose to nose over the table. Literally.

Riley was wondering why Claire had mercifully stopped what was probably going to be a long rant when he noticed the same thing. And the even-prettier-from-close-up thoughts? Yeah, those were flooding back.

However, instead of pulling back to a proper distance and continuing their conversation like he should have, Riley felt himself staying there staring, even edging a bit closer.

He was going to kiss her. Claire was pretty sure of that. She wasn't sure if she wanted to run away, slap him or kiss him back.

On one side, she barely knew him. She'd known Riley for all of a week and a half. And they had only been civil to each other for the past three days.

On the other side, she felt that she knew a lot more about him than any of the other guy's she'd kissed (though the list was tiny. Miniscule, in fact.) She knew he came from a big family, she knew his mother had died of cancer. He loved his damn conspiracy theories and his gorgeous car. She knew that he had a jealousy complex when it came to Ben and a hero complex when it came to her.

Plus, there were those _eyes_.

Crap, she really _did_ want to kiss him.

Closing her eyes and angling her head, she moved her head forward until their lips brushed ever so slightly.

And a previously unseen someone to the side of them cleared their throat pointedly and the two jumped back as if shocked.

"Would you two like to order?" Their waiter asked, amused.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had been working for what seemed like days.

Apparently Ian had limitless energy when it came to tracking down murderers. He had been on his feet for the past five hours, never taking a break or slowing down. While this stamina was common within FBI agents, Dawes had never seen a civilian work quite this hard.

"Howe," she coaxed. "We have perfectly good agents who can do the same thing you're doing right now. Why don't you take a break-"

"Dawes," Ian snapped irritatedly. "When a murderer calls _you_ up at home and tells you he's going to borrow _your_ sister for a while, then I will accept advice from you."

Dawes wisely kept silent and kept on running computer searches, grinding her teeth in frustration. With the amount of times Deachat had left obvious evidence around, you think that there would be some record of him before he came in contact with Robinson. But there was nothing. No address, no birth certificate, not even a driver's license. Their only link to him was the email address that had been created days before he first emailed Robinson with an offer to sponsor.

"It just doesn't make _sense_." she lamented. "If this was his real name, he would be considered an idiot to be dropping it everywhere. His email address, flight tickets. But if he was using a fake name, he still wouldn't want to shout it out to the FBI at any chance he could get. We've identified criminals using fake names before."

"Unless he wanted you to remember that name for some reason." Ian commented. "I've known guys who created fake names out of their real names to poke fun at the FBI."

Dawes nodded. "An anagram." she murmured. "I always did think that his name was awkward."

"If you're going to choose a fake name," Ian agreed. "You choose something simple or hard to trace. You don't choose a recognizable last name like Deachat."

Dawes pulled out a scrap of paper and a pan and wrote down "DREW DEACHAT" studying the letters, muttering possible first names that Ian quickly wrote down.

" Chad," she stated. "Um, Ace, Ted, Edward, Wade, Tad……Cadet, maybe he was in the military……"

"Wait." Ian interrupted. "What was that last one?"

"Tad?"

"No, two before that." he instructed.

Dawes glanced down at her list. "Edward?"

"What are the remaining letters?" Ian queried, his voice sounding a little shaky.

"A, E, T, C and H" Dawes answered, confused. Ian grabbed a pen and rearranged the letters. Dawes stared at the paper in amazement.

EDWARD TEACH

"Holy shit!"

"Holy shit is right."

-----------------------------------------------------------

Ben awoke in a hospital bed with his chest throbbing painfully.

_Where am I?_ He thought in confusion, squinting at the harsh lighting.

Twisting to the left, he could see his wife in a similar state, a purple bruise showing on her collarbone.

"Hello!" He called out the door. "Is anyone there?"

A kind-looking nurse appeared through the door. "Just relax, dear, you're fine." she comforted.

"What about my wife?" Ben asked in a panic.

"She's fine too- you were just knocked unconscious-the doctors guessed by tranquilizers. What happened, anyway?"

"Accident." he lied quickly. "We were mistaken for someone else. How did you find us?"

"Well, someone called to say that they had found your bodies in a bus stop on the side of the road" the nurse replied.

"What about the two others?" Ben pressed. "A young man and a woman?"

"There wasn't anyone else." the nurse informed him slowly. "Were there others with you?"

"Um, no. Just curious." Ben blurted out. The nurse nodded, looking unconvinced, and after taking his blood pressure left the room.

Ben swung out of bed as soon as she was out of sight and was over at Abbie's bed. Looking at the ugly mark left by the tranquilizer dart, he decided that if he ever met Lander again, the outcome would be quite different for the two of them.

But first things first. He would wait until Abbie woke up. Then they would find Riley and Claire.

If they were still alive.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Riley and Claire exited the restaurant quickly and walked into the shadowed parking lot, avoiding looking at each other.

"So, " Claire began hesitantly. "We should be able to get back into the Headquarters. Deachat and Lander should be on the other side of the island by now looking for us. We have to move quickly though, because in about five hours someone is going to come and open the Headquarters and find all the bullets there."

"You know Howe," drawled a disembodied voice, "You really are the easiest person to track I have ever met."

Claire's head whipped up as Lander stepped out of the shadows, his eyes gleaming with violent amusement.

"Run." Riley instructed her quickly Lander started toward them. Both of them turned on their heels and started to sprint in the other direction, wondering how the hell Lander had managed to find them here.

He caught up to Claire in seconds, his longer stride erasing the space between them. She screamed as he grabbed her arm and yanked her in the other direction, towards a rapidly approaching black sedan. Claire's eyes widened in horror and she began to struggle futilely against his iron grip.

Lander swore as Gates appeared at his side and punched him quite viciously in the eye, causing him to lose his grip on Howe. For a runt, he was pretty strong.

Realizing that he couldn't hold both of them at one, he lunged at Howe, grabbing her by the neck and puling out a Swiss knife.

"Step away or I'll slit her throat." he snarled at Gates in a rather corsair-like fashion, if he did say so himself. Gates glared murderously at him, but conceded and stepped away, his hands in the air and his eyes on Howe with a little more concern than Lander would have thought for a married man.

As the two men stared each other down, a fourth voice rang out over the deserted parking lot as a man quickly exited the black sedan.

"_Lander!_" he roared. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing? _That's my student_!"

Lander surprisedly released his hold on Claire. "Sorry boss." he apologized with barely concealed animosity.

Then he noticed Howe. She hadn't moved after he released her, and was simply standing there with her mouth opening and closing like a fish, staring disbelievingly at Deachat.

Finally she forced a question out.

"_Professor Robinson_?"

---------------------------------------------

Heheh…please don't kill me. It's summer vacation now, and I can update quicker! (But only if I get reviews. Hah. I love being evil.)


	17. The Evil Villan Monologue

Chapter Seventeen

**Disclaimer**-I can't even make up a witty disclaimer. What makes you think I could own a brilliant Disney movie?

**Crazy Little Emily**- Yay! I love your questions-they're exactly what I wanted readers to think after they read the chapter! (Well, except for the 'And when are Ian and Dawes going to do something' but I got a huge kick out of that one) Sorry I took so long to update, but I think that this chapter answers all of your questions!

**Lizzie Harrison**- (gasp) you don't know what goldfish are? Y'know, those amazing cheese crackers in the shape of fish? Sorry, maybe goldfish are a Connecticut thing. Um, think of them like Ritz crackers or something. YAY! You love cliffies! Cliffie time! To answer your question, Edward Teach was Blackbeard's real name. A lot of people were confused about that so I tried to explain it in this chapter.

**Whisperwings**- Hehe, evil cliffies strike again! Sorry I took so long to update-I've been getting ready for my exchange student and I just posted another NT story last night.

**Classicreviewer**- I know! I'm so proud of myself for not making a plot twist and not blatantly revealing it before I was supposed to. When I first was mapping out the fic with my best friend I was like "I have no idea what the hell is going to happen but the professor is going to be the bad guy" Hehe, Robinson/Deachat is certainly going to notice that Riley is not what he asked Lander to get. (I'm really proud of myself for the whole Riley-masquerading-as-Ben thing 'cause I totally made it up off the top of my head at the last second because I needed a way for Riley and Claire to stick together. It worked out nicely though. Okay, enough bragging on my part. Enjoy!

**Dralx**- Hey! You're back! Yay! Goodness, moving certainly IS an excuse to not update (not to mention finals, which I totally neglected my story during) I'm pretty sure comparing my story to the DaVinci Code is the best compliment I could get! Yay! And I'm glad you appreciate the fast updating! You're an amazing reviewer, thank you for reviewing, and whatever us grateful authors are supposed to say.

**Silveni-** He, sorry about the confusing-ness of Robinson/Deachat/Teach. I promise it's all more understandable from here on. I'm glad you like Claire's thoughts, I'm trying to make sure they're realistic and not too idealistic or Mary-Sue-ish. So yay! Thanks for reviewing! Read. Be Happy. Review.

**Elvenrarehunter**- Hah, don't worry about the whole email-thingy. I love getting reviews late 'cause they motivate me when I'm a quarter of the way through a chapter and want to go watch Lost reruns. I'm SOO glad you liked the anagram thing-It took me many, many English classes(my teacher came to despise me) to find a believable anagram for Edward Teach. It's good to know that I'm not the only one who gets the random Ian-hugging moments. And go see The Mummy. Now. It's amazing. I won't update until you see it! (Waves fist threateningly) Kidding, I'm not that mean. Thank you for waiting patiently for my slow update!

**A/N**-A lot of people were confused about the whole Deachat/Robinsin/Teach name thing. Sorry I made that chapter as little unclear. Professor Robinson is **NOT** Edward Teach (Edward Teach was Blackbeard's real name) reincarnated with the alter thingie, he just used his name as a pseudonym jumbling the letters around (A.K.A. Drew Deachat) because he's a freak. I think that's all. Enjoy and **Review!**

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Chapter Seventeen

A tense silence stretched over the deserted parking lot as Riley, Claire and Lander all stared at the figure cast in the eerie streetlight.

Deachat was of moderate height and had an unremarkable face, his dark hair and facial features bland and easily forgotten. His clothes were also nondescript, a buttoned shirt and slacks. After all the mental pictures Riley had accumulated in his mind of the murdering psycho, he was vaguely disappointed at his lack of menace.

Deachat took a wary step towards Claire, looking distressed. "Claire, I need to explain-"

"No." Riley insisted. "You're not Robinson. Robinson is dead, I saw those pictures-"

"No! That wasn't me!" Deachat exclaimed, turning toward Claire. "I'm alive, I followed you here, I needed to explain to you!"

Claire took a step forward, her arms crossed defensively. "Explain _what_ to me, Professor?" she asked quietly. Deachat, now apparently Robinson, sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"It's a long story. Come with me to the headquarters, I can tell you the whole story there."

"Absolutely not." Riley snapped. "Claire, this guy is _not_ your teacher; he tried to kill us all!"

"Riley, I think I can recognize my own professor!"

As soon as the retort left her mouth Claire wished she could take it back, widening her eyes at her own stupidity. Robinson narrowed his suspiciously. "Claire, what did you just call him?"

He squinted at Riley in the darkness, and then his eyes widened with realization. "Lander!" he roared. "Did I not ask you to bring Claire and GATES to me?"

"Yessir." Lander replied, confused. "That is Mr. Gates."

"No it's not, you blatant idiot! That's Riley Poole!"

"Well, he told me he was Mr. Gates!" Lander protested

Claire shot Riley an apologetic look. "Look, does it really matter at the moment?" she pleaded. "You're supposed to be dead, let's focus on that part!"

Robinson shot Riley and Lander one last glare and then turned to Claire. "You need to _understand_. Come to the Headquarters with me and I'll explain everything."

Riley shook his head discreetly at Claire, but Robinson noticed it and scowled. Obviously something was going to have to be done about the useless sidekick. At least Gates could have helped them.

"No." Claire refused, "You can explain everything now. At the moment, I'm not going anywhere with you."

Robinson sighed in exasperation and mentioned for Lander to stand behind Riley and Claire, newly stocked gun at ready if either tried to run away.

Robinson shifted on his feet at the edge of the parking lot and stroked his chin academically.

"Where do I begin…" he mused, as if recalling a simple bedtime story. "Well, best start at the very beginning."

Riley shot Claire a wary look. This guy was obviously a few logs short of a roaring fire.

"I was born as Eric Robinson in the small town of Bath, North Carolina. I became fascinated with Blackbeard as a child because the town of Bath was the very town in which he had settled for a short time before he was pardoned."

Claire nodded. She had visited the town herself once.

"You know of Blackbeard's marriage, Claire?" Robinson questioned. "His one legal marriage to Mary Ormond, performed by the governor himself? Yes, of course you do. No one ever knows what happened to her and her child. No one but me."

Claire stared at him, perplexed. "How could you find out-"

"I was eight when I first discovered the book in my attic." Robinson narrated as if Claire had never commented. "It was a family tree. I had never known, you see, that my mother's maiden name was Danielle Ormond. I traced back far enough-about six generations, give or take, and there it was. Mary Ormond was my great-great-great-great grandmother. I am the sole heir of Edward Teach, the great pirate Blackbeard."

An astonished Claire tried to comprehend this information.

"Wait" Riley interjected. "You think that just because Blackbeard was your great-great-great grandfather or whatever, than you can kill people to get his treasure? I don't know about the nineteenth century, but here in good old twenty-first century we call that _murder_."

Robinson shot Riley a deadly glare. "This treasure _belongs_ to me. It's rightfully mine. I've waited years to claim it, young man-you have _no idea_ how hard I have worked to be at this moment. _Decades_ of planning have led me to this point. Planning that included your girlfriend over here, so I would stop blathering about morality and _shut your fucking mouth_."

Claire's mouth dropped open. This was not the man who had taught her for seven years. She could not remember a time where Eric Robinson's voice was raised in anger, and he never swore.

Robinson turned from Riley back to Claire, the anger fading from his face. "Can you imagine, Claire?" he asked excitedly. "Finding out that you are the heir of Blackbeard? I've wanted to tell you for years-I really did. But then……." He wandered off, staring out at some far point behind her.

"Professor?" Claire prompted guardedly.

"Yes? Sorry, I was getting ahead of myself. After finding out about my lineage, I worked to become one of the most renowned Blackbeard scholars known. I wrote critically acclaimed books, and I was accepted as a history professor at Harvard University. But even after all those years of study, I had never come across a clue leading me to his treasure. _My _treasure. I began to doubt myself, believe that maybe I wasn't destined to find the treasure"

He beamed at Claire, who looked thoroughly taken aback. "But then _you_ came along, Claire. You came along and found that wonderful desk with those letters, and I knew it was a sign that I _was_ destined to find the treasure. You would help me and together we would triumph over the entire world. I could tell that you wanted the treasure as much as I did my dear; we're really so much alike."

His delighted expression clouded. "But then that damned Gatesappeared and you told me you were going to give him the Teach letters in return for your brother's freedom. _My_ letters, Claire, for your insignificant brother. I couldn't believe it. We were so close, and I was so sure that you were a sign that I should find the treasure. Then I realized that I was being tested. I would have to overcome this barrier so we could find the treasure together."

Robinson eye's shone with delirious righteousness.

"So I started to send myself e-mails under the name Drew Deachat, an anagram of Edward Teach, my ancestor. Really Claire, I'm surprised you never figured it out. I hired a man to steal the documents, since I knew they would be in one of your houses. I am _so_sorry for what Derrickson did to your apartment, by the way. I'll buy you a better one when we get back to Washington. But Derrickson failed and I had to think of another way to get my hands on those documents. I knew I was going to have to follow you to Nassau, but if I did, even using my fake name, the FBI and your brother would notice my absence and realize that I was behind the thefts. So, I threw the attention off myself by creating my own alibi."

"By killing yourself?" Claire asked incredulously.

"Precisely. By staging my own murder, poised to look like I had been a victim of Drew Deachat when in reality Drew Deachat was me. Were you awfully guilty when I was murdered, Claire? I knew you would blame yourself completely for my death-just think of it as a slap on the wrist for selling out to Gates."

Claire as well as Riley and Lander now looked completely freaked out. "But if you're alive, who did the FBI find in your house?"

"Oh, that was Herman, my mailman. He was the perfect stand-in, really. No family, no one who would miss him. And he did always deliver my mail late."

Robinson shook his head sadly.

"As much as I'd like to say his death was quick, I was forced to burn him to death slowly. I had to make the FBI think it was me, you see. After he was completely unidentifiable, I pulled out one of my own teeth and dropped in inside of his mouth so when the FBI ran it for DNA they would believe it was my dead body. Then I bought a plane ticket under Drew Deachat and flew to Nassau. The rest I'm sure you know."

As he finished his monologue, Robinson let out a large breath, as if getting a huge load off of his shoulders. He stared at Claire expectantly, waiting for her reaction.

Claire gaped at him. "Who the _hell_ are you?"

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Over the many years she had worked at the Prospect Ridge Hospital, the old nurse had never seen patients actually leave the hospital unannounced. The man and woman who had been carried in earlier hadn't had severe wounds, but they definitely shouldn't have just up and left the hospital without so much as a warning.

But when she had come in to check on the couple, they were gone, their beds made and an unsigned note thanking her for her help accompanied with some cash. The nurse couldn't help but remember the suspicious conversation she had had with the man earlier before his wife woke up. Though he had tried to sound convincing, he was a terrible liar and she wondered exactly what had transpired that had gotten the two of them shot with tranquilizer darts.

After cleaning the room and replacing the sheets on their beds, the nurse was about to leave when she spotted a crumpled piece of notepaper in the trash basket that wasn't there before. While it was highly frowned upon to invade the privacy of the hospital's patients, the nurse's curiosity prevailed and she opened it, hoping to at least find the name of the couple.

A short note was scrawled in black pen.

_Dear Ben_,

_Claire and I had to get you somewhere safe until you woke up so we could get away from Lander and Deachat. Don't worry, we'll be fine. _

_I'm sorry_.

_-Riley_

She stared at the note, baffled. The man, Ben apparently, had mentioned others, a young man and woman, which she assumed were the Claire and Riley who wrote the note. But who in the world were Lander and Deachat?

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

In the end, they had had no choice but to go with them. Riley had a feeling that Robinson would have preferred to burn him alive as well instead of dragging him along to the headquarters, but didn't wish to alienate his precious Claire.

Of course, Claire was already thoroughly alienated. She couldn't possibly more horrified at her former professor if he had owned up to murdering her own brother. But the two of them couldn't quarrel with Lander's gun, so they had entered Robinson's car and sped off towards the Headquarters

The building was utterly unchanged, the one variable that had remained unvaried in the last few hours. The side door was still swinging open in the wind from when he and Claire had left, dragging Abigail and Ben's bodies.

They now entered again with two different companions, creeping down the same hallway into the bullet-riddled study. Robinson drew a pained gasp at the damage done to his ancestor's former residence and glared at Lander.

"Help me with trap door, you miscreant." he ordered. "At least you can serve _some_ purpose."

As Lander and Robinson pried open the floor, Riley squeezed Claire's hand. She had been disturbingly silent since Robinson's story, and spent the short car ride staring out the window blankly.

"Hey" he whispered. "We're gonna get out of this, okay? Don't be such a Johnny Raincloud."

Claire didn't answer, but smiled slightly as she stared at the ground.

"Got it!" Robinson crowed victoriously as the hatch opened to the winding stairs. He jumped down onto the first stair and mentioned for Claire to follow him, his eyes shining with boyish delight.

"You go last, Lander" he instructed before disappearing down the staircase. Claire hopped in behind him and tentatively began her ascent down.

Eyeing the accumulated spider webs with distaste, Riley gingerly lowered himself into the hatch. The rusty stairs were steep and cramped, and though Robinson and Lander carried flashlights, Riley could barely see in front of him.

He realized the stars had stopped when he bumped into Claire's back, stumbling on the suddenly flat floor.

Riley could tell they were in a large room by the way the air seemed to lighten in comparison to the congested stair case. Then Lander came to stand next to him and the two flashlights provided just enough light to make the room visible. Soft utterances filled the room.

"Oh my God,"

"Holy Shit"

"……..Wow."

Riley raised his eyebrows "Um….this definitely isn't the treasure room."

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Wohoo! My first summer vacation chapter! My Spanish exchange student is coming tomorrow (yay!) which means I might not be able to post for a few days. (But the reviews will speed me up!) (wink wink)

**While you're waiting, go read and review the first chapter of my new National Treasure Story, Gold Digger. Yes, more blatant self promotion, but it's going to have more Ian in it than this one! (With much less plot devices/depth/cliffies, mind, but more Ian!)**


	18. Never Screw With A Howe

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Elvenrarehunter**-Yay! Thank you for reading Gold Digger. I know,a descendant. Pretty funky, huh?

**Dralx**-Thank you for agreeing with my self-promotion. I agree it's quite fun.

**Crazy Little Emily**- Hah, no, he didn't kill his mailman becasue he delivered the mail late, he killed him becasue he needed a body to pose as him. I'm gald you think he's insane-I heartily agree

**Lizzie-Harrison**-Whoops! I'm SO sorry about the goldfish thing. My "stupid american" switch was on, and I assumed everyone knew what goldfish were. I'm glad you liked the chapter.

**Kes**-Hah, I listened to one of your three commands. I promise Claire will become clever eventually, and Darth Psycho's fate is yet to be determined.

**Whisperwings**-I'm glad you liked the chapter-I'm having SO much fun with my exchage student, but as you can see, she'd been keeping me kind of busy. Sorry to leave you hanging there!

**Classicreviewer**-And i don't update for two weeks...whooops. Sorry. I PROMISE I'll become faster. Plus this chapter is superlong.

**Silevni**-More Ian in this chapter. Yay!

A/N- Yes, I realize I haven't updated in literallyforever, I have very many valid excuses, but I just typed this chapter up in one night and am too tired to type them. This chapter is dedicated to **Kes** because she asked me to whump Riley. I'm pretty sure I delivered, and there's more to come.

---------------------

Chapter Seventeen

The four stood on a sandy shore, a rather apropos eerie fog surrounding them.

What Riley was gaping at was a murky lake stretching out before them, mist swirling over the surface. The beams of light from Robinson's and Lander's flashlights disappeared into the fog, suggesting that the lake went far beyond the foundation of the headquarters.

"No way" Lander stated disbelievingly. "You can't have a lake underground. That's not physically possible, right?"

Claire shrugged. "They had one in Phantom of the Opera."

"Actually," Riley broke in, glad for a burst of normalcy, "we're a good 200 feet underground and the topography is naturally flat, so this is just the result of the water table never intersecting with the surface. This is probably a limestone area, so if you look-"

"Riley, we get the point." Claire interrupted.

While Riley was giving his science lesson, Robinson had left the group and wandered over to the other side of the sliver of shore, his object of interest a slightly moldy rowboat tied to a small dock and bobbing slightly in the water.

"We're obviously supposed to go across." he murmured to himself. "But what point and purpose does the travel across the lake serve?"

Claire walked over and began to examine the boat, Riley following close behind.

"It's a relatively small boat." she noted, slipping into her historian mode. "It can probably hold only six people, tops. Blackbeard expected his fellow pirates to be the first ones to find his treasure, and they usually traveled in large groups, depending on which captain they swore their allegiance to."

"This was meant as a point to isolate the leaders from the followers. Only the top six or so would journey across to the treasure." Robinson said, finishing her thought.

As they silently climbed in, Riley thanked his lucky stars that there were only four of them. He had a feeling that Robinson would have no problem "leaving him behind" if the rowboat couldn't accommodate them all.

Helping Claire into one of the small benches, Riley took a seat next to her across from Robinson and Lander. The two larger men grabbed the attached oars and with a creak, the broat broke free of the dock and started to slosh through the water, disturbing the mist and making it swirl creepily around them.

It was a fairly silent ride. Lander took the time to check every weapon currently strapped on every conceivable part of his body. If he was doing this to intimidate him, Riley thought, it was working pretty well.

Claire gripped the side of the rowboat and was staring past Robinson and Lander, searching for the other side of the lake. Riley could practically see the gears in her mind working and hoped she was thinking up a brilliant Harvard-esque plan to ditch Lander and Robinson and find Abbie and Ben. Getting the treasure would also be highly welcomed, but considered a bonus at this point.

After Lander finished ominously loading his various guns, a disconcerting quiet spread over the four. After all, Riley reasoned, it wasn't like they really had anything to talk about. Two of them were being held as prisoners, one was a trigger-happy bully, and the fourth was an utter loony. While he usually prided himself as conversation starter, Riley didn't think anyone would appreciate a comment on the weather-especially since they were underground.

Instead he stared as his feet and tried to secure a sense of reality. The past few hours had been a whirlwind, and the last cohesive, grounded memory was walking into the headquarters with Ben and Abby. Riley desperately wished, above all things, that Ben and Abby could be here now with them in this uncomfortable boat, rowing to God-knows-where. While he admitted that sometimes they were gaggingly sweet and made him feel like a third wheel, they were as close to him as his own family. Especially Ben, who was definitely closer to him that any of his five brothers. Annoyingly noble as he was, Riley couldn't remember a tricky situation he was in where Ben wasn't with him yelling at him to shut up.

As the fuzzy outlines of a shore began to swim through the fog, Riley felt a wave of impending doom at the bottom of his stomach and wished he could apologize to Ben for every sarcastic comment he had spat out during serious situations, every time he had made fun of him and his giant conscience, and the myriad of times he had complained to him to hide his fear.

Claire had noticed the shore as well, and Riley could see that she was feeling the bad karma radiating off the shore. There was a sheen of sweat on her forehead glistening in the fog and she swallowed hard every time they moved a yard closer to the shore. Her eyes never left the place where the water stopped, and she seemed to be waiting for something.

They were only about sixty feet away now, and as they approached the shallows Riley could almost glimpse the bottom of the lake looming far under the water.

Claire's jaw was clenched now, and she looked nervously determined. Riley shot her a questioning look. What exactly was she doing…………?

He was cut from his line of wondering when in surprising agility Claire hooked her foot around to the edge of the boat and shoving it forward, stood up, tipping the boat into the water and sending the foursome crashing into the icy depths of the lake.

--------------------------------------------------

As Ben drove like a madman down the road towards the headquarters, with car horns blaring angrily behind him and Abby's worried voice in his ear, he really wished Riley could see him now. Ben Gates, the famous "Dogood" was racing at least 30 miles over the speed limit in a stolen car.

Once Abby had woken up in the hospital, Ben was ready to check out quickly and silently and find Riley and Claire. His only consolation was that they had probably escaped from Lander if they had time to take them to the hospital. (And he assumed it was Riley and Claire who brought them to the hospital, as it didn't quite seem like an act of goodwill that Lander would partake in)

He had been slipping on his coat when he felt the crumpled paper in his pocket. Pulling it out curiously, he had read the note from Riley in seconds.

_Dear Ben_,

_Claire and I had to get you somewhere safe until you woke up so we could get away from Lander and Deachat. Don't worry, we'll be fine. _

_I'm sorry_.

_-Riley_

The last bit still echoing guiltily in his head, Ben pushed down the pedal harder, the cars around him pulling away from the speeding lunatic. It was typical of Riley to feel sorry for things beyond his control. Ben remembered when Riley had apologized after the Declaration of Independence was lost to Ian. It wasn't until after the entire ordeal that he had learned that it had been Abigail who lost the Declaration, while Riley had been the one to save her life. The kid always did have a blame streak a mile wide. It was one of the few things they had in common.

After dragging his wife out of the hospital without bothering to check out, Ben had sped to the hotel, only to find no one there. The room was torn apart, and he could surmise that Lander had been there earlier looking for Claire and Riley as well.

"Clam down" Abby had berated him. "And stop pacing, you're not going to get anywhere by wearing a hole in the floor. Now, put yourself in Riley's shoes. If you were him and you needed help, who would you call?"

Ben sat down in the chair and tried to keep still before he had sprung up and was pacing once again. "Me!" he yelled in frustration. "He would call me!"

"Yes, but you were unconscious." Abigail said thoughtfully. "Hm, maybe we're going about this the wrong way. If you were Claire, who would you call first?"

Ben had that answer in seconds and was by the phone, dialing Ian's number.

"Hello?" Ian had answered sharply, and Ben had almost sighed in relief.

"Ian" he rushed. "It's Ben, I need to know-"

"Ben!" Ian shouted, anger creeping into his voice. "What the hell is going on down there! Where's my sister, I want her on the phone right now!"

"You mean she didn't call you?"

"No!" Ian yelled. "_Deachat _called me, saying that he was _borrowing_ Claire! Ben, are you saying that you don't have her? I swear to God-"

Ben had hung up quickly. "Lander got them." He told Abby, running to the door. "He'll be at the headquarters, Deachat must be there by now. We need to get down that hatch."

As Ben almost clipped yet another passerby, he winced at the memory of the enraged state he had left Ian in back at the hotel. He really owed the guy a phone call after this was all done, he must be worried.

As they pulled up to the Headquarters in the dark hours of the early morning, Ben spotted the black sedan parked next to the back door.

"Oh Bad." he muttered as he kicked the drivers door opened and joined Abby running into the building. "Very, very bad."

-----------------------------------------------

Riley fumbled in the freezing water, trying to find the surface. His mind was muddled, panicked by the memory of the last time he had been submerged in water and almost drowned.

A hand loomed through his vision and pulled him upwards until he popped to the surface like a cork, banging his head on the top of the overturned canoe. It was pitch black inside, but he could make out the face of his rescuer.

"Claire," he sputtered through mouthfuls of muddy water, "what the hell did you do that for?"

Claire was pale and shaking slightly. Riley figured it was a mix of the cold and the thought of what Robinson would do to her once he emerged from the water.

"Start swimming." she whispered through her chattering teeth.

"What?"

"You heard me. Start swimming that way back to shore. Robinson and Lander won't go after you if I'm still here. Go get Ben and Abby and come back to get me out of here."

Claire stared at him expectantly as he treaded water, staring at her.

"Wait." he coughed. "You flipped this canoe over so I could get away?"

"It's a rowboat idiot, not a canoe, and of course I did. What, did you think I just wanted to go swimming?"

Riley could hear the sound of splashing outside of their boat. Soon Robinson and Lander were going to realize that they were under there. He knew Claire was petrified -she wouldn't have snarked at him in this situation unless she was utterly scared.

In the two minutes he had to escape, Riley debated leaving. On one hand, it was the sensible thing to do. They didn't even know if Ben and Abby knew where they were, and someone had to tell the police that it was Robinson who was the murderer, not the murdered. Plus, Claire was right. Robinson wouldn't waste time chasing after him-he probably realized that he had limited time. As long as Claire stayed behind, Robinson wouldn't pursue.

Then again, Riley looked at Claire and knew that he couldn't possibly leave her alone with Lander and Robinson. There was a possibility that she would be dead by the time he got back with Ben and Abby.

Once again, Riley caught himself wondering what Ben would do in the situation. Well, that one was easy. Four years ago, Ben was faced with dropping the Declaration or dropping Abigail to possibly her death. Ben had chosen practicality over sentimentality. Abby would likely live (and had lived) because there was a platform under her. Similarly, Claire would likely live because she was too valuable to Robinson to be killed.

"Do you trust me?" he asked Claire quickly. She nodded.

"Yes. Go"

Riley had taken a breath to dive under the water when he stopped himself. Despite the fact that common sense was screaming at him to go, he just couldn't make himself move. The splashing drew closer.

"Riley!" Claire urged. "Go! What are you waiting for?"

"I'm not going." he stated firmly, making up his mind. Ben might have chosen practicality, but Riley realized that he himself had never really been a practical person. "I'm not leaving you here with them."

Claire gaped at him. "Are you insane?"

"Pretty much. C'mon, our buddies are waiting for us."

------------------------------------------------

Ian pressed his forehead against the window, the coolness of the glass soothing him. The helicopter was currently over Florida, but they still had a ways left to go.

After Ben's five second phone call, his apartment was even more hectic that it was before. After Deachat's phone call, the FBI had his phone's wired eight ways from Sunday and were all prepared for another threat when his phone rang.

Adrenaline mixed with fear had powered him for the last six hours. He didn't remember what sleep felt like. After Ben's call, the feeling of powerlessness had been tugging at his mind, taunting him. The great master Ian Howe was, for once, not in control of the situation. If fact, he had no bloody idea what was going on.

Minutes after the call, Dawes had come rushing in, red faced. "Our Lab was doing bone marrow samples on Robinson, and the DNA came up Herman Georges."

Ian blinked. "Who's Herman Georges?"

"A mailman who somehow ended up burned to death in the middle of Robinson's house."

"Wait…" Ian said, puzzled. "But if _that_ guy isn't Robinson, then where's the real….."

He trailed of as the enormity of the situation hit him. "Oh crap."

Fortunately, the only positive side of this revelation was that the FBI certainly had jurisdiction now. Which was why he was now on a helicopter towards Nassau with some of Washington's finest flying behind him.

And as he flew over Florida, approaching Nassau in about an hour, Ian was overcome by a familiar urge. He just really, _really_ wanted to shoot someone.

----------------------------------------------------

Claire could tell that Robinson was furious. His eyes were doing that crazy shining thing and he breathing a little too deeply, even though he did just have to swim to shore. As Riley and Claire sloshed through the shallows, Robinson stood at the edge of the beach and glared at them, while Lander stood with his gun trained in case any of them tried to swim away.

Claire kept silent, her head to the ground as she passed Robinson and Lander. She really didn't know what to say. After all, she couldn't really say "Well professor, I origionally dumped us all in the lake to give Riley a chance to escape, but then he decided to stay with me, which was quite chivalrous and stupid of him. So it was all really for nothing. Sorry you got wet."

Yes, it was probably best to keep silent.

At least they knew where to go from here. The shore was surrounded by a rock wall, except for a single metal door, a peeling cross and bones painted on it in dark red paint.

Robinson examined the door curiously, and then turned around to face Claire. She could tell he was still mad, and braced herself.

"That's quite a stunt you pulled." he began, his voice quivering. He glared at Riley. "I wonder where you learned how to do it?"

"It was completely my idea." Claire protested. "I just wanted to give Riley a chance…..Professor, can't you please let him go? He has nothing to do with this, and I swear he won't go to anyone."

"Claire" Riley said through gritted teeth. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying here with you."

Robinson watched the interaction between the two of them. "You know, the Claire Howe I knew would never flip over a canoe on someone. I think this boy's been a bad influence on you."

"No, I swear, it was all me. I'll stop it if you let him go." Claire pleaded.

Robinson sighed. "Does it really mean that much to you?"

Claire stepped forward hopefully and ignored Riley's warning look. "Yes."

"And you're going to keep on pulling stunts like these until I let him go?"

"Yes"

"And nothing I say will change your mind?"

"Yes" Claire repeated.

Robinson smiled. "Alright then. Well, I thought it was high time I did this anyway."

Claire looked confused. "You did? What-"

Claire stopped speaking abruptly as Robinson grabbed the gun from Lander's hand and shot Riley twice in the chest.

----------------------------------------------

The hatch had been open.

Ben and Abby had grabbed a dropped flashlight lying in the corner and started down the staircase, squinting in the near dark.

"What the…" Ben exclaimed as he reached the bottom. "Is that a _lake_?"

Abbie walked over to the dock. "There was a boat here. Robinson and the others must have taken it."

Any further speculation was cut off by the sound of a gunshot across the lake, followed closely by another.

"_Riley_!" A woman's voice screamed. Ben and Abby exchanged horrified looks and simultaneously jumped in the water, swimming as fast as they could towards the woman's continuing screaming.

"_You son of a BITCH_!"

-------------------------------------------

Contrary to what novels say, the whole thing didn't seem to happen very fast. In fact, it seemed as if they were underwater, everything was moving so slow. Robinson lifted his arm and Claire felt her blood turn cold as she finally realized what he was going to do.

She saw rather than heard the gun go off, and she felt her mouth moving, screaming something at him, but she didn't know what it was.

Then a dark red spot appeared on Riley shirt, followed by another, barely visible on the black material. Riley stared down in shock at them as the two messy circles began to grow, seeping down his shirt and creating long ovals rather that circles.

Riley lifted his gaze from his shirt and looked at her in horror.

"Claire?" he said faintly in surprise, as if wondering why his shirt was slowly turning red.

He staggered and blinking, sat down hard, gasping for breath. Claire ran to his side, her legs moving to slowly as if she were in a dream. She dropped down on her knees and helped him to the ground.

"What…." he began softly

"It's ok Riley, you're going to be fine. Everything's going to be fine. You're ok, You're ok." She stopped as the back of her throat burned. His face became blurry and Claire realized she was crying, though she didn't know when she had started.

"Ow." Riley whispered, laughing weakly. "That really hurts."

"You're going to be-" Claire tried to start again and had to stop. "I'm so sorry." she forced out.

Riley waved his hand at her awkwardly. "S'ok." He stopped and shakily took another breath, blood flecking on his lips.

"Tell Ben…" he began, but started to cough violently and had to gasp for breath again. "Tell-"

Another gunshot rang out and Claire cringed. The third bullet had pierced straight through the place where Riley's heart should be, depending on the health classes she took in eighth grade.

Riley blinked and then closed his eyes, exhaling loudly as if falling asleep. Claire watched for what seemed like hours, but his chest didn't rise again. She knew he was dead.

"Well," Robinson said pleasantly, as if he wasn't holding a still smoking gun. "Sorry about that last one, he was taking to long to die. I hope this is a lesson to you Claire, to practice obedience a little more. But I really had to kill him, you know. He was getting in the way." He sneered at Riley's body. "He wasn't one of _us_, anyway."

With that, he turned once more to the door, turning the handle. "Lander, you bring up the rear."

Marching though the door, he looked back in surprise when Claire didn't follow him. She hadn't gotten up at all, in fact. She was still kneeling by Riley's body, watching the blood flow down the sides of his shirt and noiselessly crying.

"Claire." he said more sternly. "We're _going_."

She hiccupped, her eyes still on Riley. "Go to _hell_."

Robinson's eyes glittered dangerously. "Claire, the _treasure_ is in there."

She finally looked at him, her cheeks shining and her eyes wide with a look he had never seen before. "_Screw your treasure_." she hissed at him.

His face hardened and he turned his back on her. "Lander, bring Claire with us. She's coming wether she likes it or not."

Lander turned to collect her as Robinson marched through the door.

Claire was no longer looking at Riley. In fact, she was avoiding his body altogether. Her eyes were glued to the doorway through which Robinson had just walked. Her eyes were still wide, and Lander flinched as he looked at her. Like Robinson, he didn't recognize the look Claire had on her face, but it was certainly enough to scare the living daylights out of him.

Riley would have recognized the look. So would Ben and Abby, swimming across the lake. It was the look Ian Howe got when he was hundreds of feet below Trinity Church.

What Robinson and Lander didn't know was that you never, ever screw with a Howe.

Because, as they would eventually learn, a Howe will screw with you right back.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

**Erm...You guys DO know that I would never, EVER kill Riley off for good, right?...Right? Well, PLEASE don't kill me. Remember, Riley actually has to be there at the end for there to be a RileyOC. Just no flames please.**


	19. Battle of the OC's

Chapter Nineteen (I'm almost at twenty chapters! Wow!)

**Dralx**-Oh yay. I'm glad that I made you like Riley! He's a likable person (sometimes) and I too didn't realize how much I liked Riley until I killed him off. Whoops!(Hee)

No worries, Riley's a tough kid-he'll rebound. I swear that you're the most polite reviewer I've ever had. Thank you as well for the lovely review.

**Silveni**-Well, technically I DID kill him, I just didn't kill him OFF. If you look back a few chapters in the story you can probably predict what's going to happen in this chapter. Haha, per your request I did make sure that Claire "got him good." She wouldn't be a Howe if she didn't go a wee bit crazy.

**Crazy Little Emily**-Hah, I knew you would hate the ending of that last chapter. I acknowledge that I am the most evil author ever, but at least this time I didn't make you wait two weeks for the next chapter, right? Don't die! I need the reviews! hah JK. I updated faster than planned just for you. (For Second Review-I'm a bandie too! Have fun at band camp!)

**Whisperwings**-(Perks up) You liked the death scene? Yay! I worked very hard on that bit, I didn't want it to be too cheesy.

**Liana Elfgirl**- Thank you so much for reviewing! I love new reviewers! I tired to update as quickly as possible so you wouldn't be held in suspense. Don't worry, Riley will bounce back (wink)

**Classicreviewer**- Hee. I guess I AM pretty sick for killing Riley, eh? Don't worry I take no offense. It was necessary for my plot development. Of course, doesn't mean I liked doing it (lugs away the five pounds of tissues used while writing the death scene.) O well. This chapter is happier. Enjoy.

**Makedamnsure**-New Reviewer! I would hug you, but not only would that probably freak you out, but is physically impossible at the moment. An enormous Thank You will have to do. Yay, you're the first person who has commented on the ending. I'm cranking out the rest of it as fast as I can.

**Aniangelz**- Ha, I wouldn't go as far as to call me a writing genius, but I'm glad you like the fic, and thank you so much for reviewing.

**Kes**-Ah, I hate it when cuts off my reviews. My sympathies, friend. You've no manner of luck at all. (Hah, sorry, I'm in a POTC mood after seeing the second movie.) I'm glad you liked the whumpage, and while there isn't any in this chapter there's lots of after-whumpage and a bit of revenge. Enjoy!

**Miss Kitty**-I accept the fact that I am evil, though I object at being put on the same level of evil as Robinson. (Though, technically we both kinda killed Riley. But I was SAD! Really!) Oooo, you'e the first person who thinks they know what cool trick I'm going to pull to get Riley back.(If, in fact, I do) Cheers! Thank you so much for the flattery, my ego is quite large now. A few people have complained. I will try to keep up the "great" work.

**Sunburn Lady**- Sorry! my long in-between-update-period-of-time is completely my exchange students fault. (Okay, maybe not completely, but I can't solely blame myself, I'm too conceited) She insists I learn to speak Spanish better, though I'm still concentrating on learning to speak my first language. However, before I go on a rant, I'm glad that you like my story, and thank you so much for reviewing.

**Feathered Friend**- Don't worry, I fully intend on leaving this chapter on a semi-happy note. I agree that leaving you at a part where I just killed off NT's most beloved character does not exactly score me any brownie points. Thanks for reviewing anyway.

**elf of life**-Thank you so much for reviewing! just so you wouldn't be left hanging at the dying part while I went up to Vermont for the weekend, I updated with some happy stuff

**A/N-** Wow, if I get that many reviews in one chapter as I did in last chapter, I should kill of Riley more often! (that was a JOKE) Thank you so much guys! And a special thanks to the people who reviewed for the first time, you made my two weeks!

**Chapter Nineteen**

While his grip on her arm was still viselike, Claire noticed that Lander kept her a good two feet away from his body, as if she had rabies. Normally she would have found this incredibly amusing, but her mind simply had one track at the moment.

Kill Robinson.

Her eyes were locked on the faint shadow of her target moving swiftly down the cave passageway. As soon as he was out of hearing range, she turned and grabbed Lander.

"Leave." she hissed quietly, her hands fisted in his jacket and her face pushed in his. "Get out of here."

Lander had drawn his gun and ripped himself out of her grip, backing up until his back hit the cavern wall. "Stay away from me, you crazy bitch." he warned.

Claire laughed hysterically. "You're calling me the crazy one?" she sneered, "What about Darth Psycho down there, you think he's not a few tacos short of a combo platter?"

Lander chose not to respond, his wary glance down the passageway revealing his feelings about his boss' sanity.

"Start running, Lander." Claire instructed. " If you begin now, you can escape with your life."

"Yeah?" Lander replied, his shaking hands betraying the steady voice. "Why's that?"

"Well, I figured that a smart guy like you would have figured it out already. Why do you think Robinson has let you come this far? He certainly has no trouble detaining me, I'm half his size. So why would he bring a muscleman into a plot when he needs to conceal his identity? You're obviously going to want some of the loot, and who knows who you'll tell. Come on Lander, the answer's simple." Claire mocked. "Has he told you about his precious Alter of Sangre? His plans to resurrect Blackbeard?"

Lander scoffed. "You're raving. That thing's fake."

"Robinson believes it's real. He's also done his research. You need a human blood sacrifice to use the Alter. That's why he hired you."

Claire could see Lander pale even the dimness of the cave. In the small piece of her mind still connected to reality, she marveled over the lies pouring out of her mouth.(And they were lies-for one, Robinson couldn't resurrect Blackbeard without his body present.) It was as if someone else had taken over her body, and the slowly shrinking sane part of her brain could only watch as a disembodied spectator.

"He'll kill you to resurrect Blackbeard-you know he has a gun. So I'm offering you another option. Leave now."

He hesitated. "What about Robinson?"

Claire allowed herself a fleeting look back at the mouth of the passageway where Riley's body was.

"I'll take care of Robinson." she stated flatly, turning her back on the opening and glaring down into the cavern. She heard a faint pounding and looked up, surprised, as she realized that Lander had already left. The bastard hadn't left her anything to kill him with, though. You think he could spare one tiny knife.

Claire shrugged and brushed the thought off, starting to walk down the passageway into the darkness. She didn't really need a weapon. In fact, killing Robinson with her bare hands was beginning to grow on her.

------------------------------------------

The water was freezing. ROTC training had certainly dulled Ben's vulnerability to cold water, but at the moment his mind was too frantic to block out the chills.

Riley could probably give him a detailed explanation on why exactly the water was cold, Ben thought, if Riley was swimming next to him instead of on the other side of the lake, possibly bleeding heavily.

In a crazy way, this swimming would have been almost enjoyable if Riley was here. The kid would complain endlessly, of course, but Riley always managed to tough it out.

Ben turned around and checked on Abbie behind him, swallowing a mouthful of water in the process. In doing so, he missed seeing a shadowy figure emerge faintly on the far side of the lake. When a large splash sounded, Ben assumed it was from his wife behind him.

In fact, he wasn't aware of another presence until he reached a rowboat upside down about halfway across the lake and there was another man clinging to it, trying to flip it back over again.

Ben's pulse speeded. "Riley?" he called out hopefully, doubling his efforts to get to the boat. He could hear Abbie also calling behind him.

As their cries reached the shadowed figure, his head jerked toward them and began to struggle faster than before, trying to climb onto the rowboat.

"Riley?" Ben shouted one last time before catching a glimpse of the man's face.

It was definitely not Riley.

-----------------------------------------

Ian stepped out onto the tarmac, his hair blowing messily around his face and the heat collapsing down on him in an oppressing burden. Shrugging out of his jacket, he strode out from beneath the still-whirling blades to the tan car waiting for him.

Sliding into the passenger seat, he was faced with a tall, dark-skinned man in large black sunglasses and a black suit. Ian immediately thought that he looked like an older Will Smith in MIB, and then cursed Claire for making him watch horrendous movies just because she loved anything with a conspiracy theory.

"Agent Micheals" the man introduced himself shortly. "I just got here about an hour before you. We already have agents going to your sister's hotel."

"She won't be there." Ian replied curtly. "Agent Dawes should have informed you about the phone call I received from Robinson. He said he was going to take my sister. Right now she's with him."

Micheals gunned the engine of the car and sped out of the tarmac. "And where is he?"

"Where the treasure is."

The agent sighed "And where is the treasure?"

"No bloody idea. First we have to find Ben Gates."

--------------------------------------

Claire edged down the damp passageway, alone except for a flickering light far away that bounced off the walls of the cave and alerted her of Robinson's presence. But for all intents and purposes, she was alone. Claire was trapped unaccompanied in the memory of Riley rasping his last request to her with dying eyes. She closed her eyes, trying to block out the image, but it was burned onto the back of her eyelids, pounding in her head like a dull drill boring through her skull.

The only thought that survived through that image was the way to make it stop. Robinson. Killing him would make it better. The burning in the back of her throat would stop and she could finally cut the ongoing loop of Riley's blood dripping onto the ground.

A grinding noise echoed down the passageway and Claire quickened her pace. Robinson's light disappeared, and she was cloaked in complete darkness. She barely noticed, and simply stretched out a hand in front of her to guide her way.

Then her hand hit a wall and Claire stopped. Frowning, she ran her hand across the rock until she came to a crack. Digging her fingernails into it, she pushed as hard as she could sideways, feeling he skin on her fingers break and bleed.

The door gave way easier that expected, and slid to the left, creating a large sliver of light. Claire's hands stung as dirt entered the cuts in her skin, but she barely noticed. Reaching into the crack in the door, she squeezed herself in and stumbled into the other side.

The room was lit with a few sparse torches on the rock wall, but most of the dim light came from cracks in the high ceiling that stretched to outside. Claire hypothesized that by now they were probably under some deserted beach near the museum.

Robinson stood, Lander's gun still in hand, staring out into the room. To him, it must have been like glimpsing heaven. The giant chamber was glittering with mountains of gold, stretching to the ceiling and cascading down again with peaks of precious jewels and bronze statues. Old wood chests lined the walls, their tarnished gold locks gleaming appealingly through the rust.

"Amazing……" he whispered, staggering forward. "It's amazing….."

Claire stared blackly at the piles of gold and jewels, not a single burst of euphoria produced inside her. She imagined what it would be like to have found this treasure with Riley and the others-she would be squealing like a giddy schoolgirl and hugging Riley before venturing out to examine the ancient artifacts.

Instead, she found herself standing in front of the treasure she had dreamed of with a man she intended to kill in this very room. Claire felt a stab of anger at Robinson for, after everything else he had done, now ruining what was supposed to be the most triumphal moment of her life.

"Robinson." she choked past her fury.

He turned around, an elated smile on his face. "Claire! There you are! My God, will you look at this! It's just what we dreamed of, Claire, isn't it extraoadinary?"

Claire met his gaze, her face contorted to disbelief. "You think-" she started roughly; "You think we can just pretend the last few hours never happened? That we're _buddies_ again, teacher and student?"

Robinson glanced around the room warily. "Clare, where's Lander?"

"He's gone now." Claire sneered. "It's just you and me, just like you always wanted it, _Professor_. No one to get in the way."

Robinson swung up his gun, pointing it at her head. "Don't even start Claire. You know you'll never do it, you're not the killing type."

She took a step back and dropped her gaze to the gold-covered floor, her face cloudy with conflict. As Robinson relaxed his grip on the gun, Claire's hand shot out and twisted his wrist, dropping the gun to the floor. Using the same hand, she pulled him toward her, and in age-old tradition kneed him viciously in the balls.

Robinson howled in pain and surprise and fell to his knees. "You bitch!"

Claire grinned violently and brought her foot up to kick him under his chin, snapping his head back.

"I became the killing type the minute you pulled that trigger, Professor. Time to pay up."

-----------------------------------------

"Lander." Ben growled as he swam the last few feet to the rowboat.

Lander let go of the boat and took a few strokes back. " Hey, I had nothing to do with it, I left, I swear-"

His less-than-believable protests were cut off as Ben grabbed his throat and shoved him under the water. Lander flailed under the water for his closest gun strapped to his belt, but found that it, along with his other gun, it had become completely waterlogged. Cursing his bad gun luck in the last 24 hours, he referred to old way of fighting and puched ben in the stomach.

Doubling up, Ben released his hold on Lander's throat, giving Lander a chance to break to the surface, gasping for breath.

Once his vision cleared of little black fuzzies, Lander look around him in surpise. Ben wasn't anywhere to be seen.

Then he felt a strong jerk on his foot and was again pulled down into the water. Coughing and sputtering, he floundered, hitting anywhere he could blindly find on Ben. He felt Ben's hands closing in on his throat again and head butted him square in the forehead, wasting more air in his lungs as he exerted himself. Hell, how long could this guy Gates hold his breath?

Another pair of smaller hands closed down on him in a chokehold from behind, squeezing the last of his air out and surrendering his to blackness.

Ben emerged from the water sucking in air, helping Abbie pull Lander back up to the surface.

"Nice job." he gasped. "Dump him in the rowboat and let's keep on going to shore."

-----------------------------------------

Robinson rebounded quicker than she had expected, tackling her in the stomach and sending her sprawling into one of the mountains of gold. Claire winced as her head hit a ruby-adorned chalice and scrabbled up the giant pile, Robinson grabbing at her heels.

As she grabbed a small pewter statue to pull herself up farther, it gave way and sent her sliding down into Robinson. He grabbed her throat and pushed her against the gold with surprising strength.

"You aren't worthy of the treasure" he snarled, his face red and his eyes bulging. "You will never understand."

Claire opened her mouth, straining for air, and swung the statue in her hand into his temple. Robinson released her, clutching his bleeding head in pain, and Claire rolled sideways, continuing her climb upward over priceless treasures.

As she reached the top, Claire stopped to catch her breath, hanging onto a throne perched at the peak of the pile. She glanced down at Robinson, who was still trying to stem the bleeding in his head and climb at the same time.

From here she could see the entire room; it was a magnificent view, really, the sort of thing she would have enjoyed if she wasn't focused on killing a madman. She spared only a few admiring glimpses before scrounging around for a weapon to kill Robinson with.

It only took one glimpse for Claire to notice something stowed in the corner, an ethereal light shining down on it from one of the cracks in the ceiling.

It really looked like nothing more than an oversized stone box, but a closer look showed markings on the sides, carvings of pictures and writing that was indiscernible from far away.

But Claire had seen pictures, and knew that it was no oversized box.

"The Alter" she whispered, floored. Through all of Robinson's ramblings and lectures, she had never really believed that it existed. But there was no mistaking it, perched only feet from the gold pile she was standing on.

This completely changed things. Despite her best efforts, she felt the small strands of hope begin to tug on her mind, forcing an idea into her head.

_Riley…………It could work. _

Jumping down the other side of the gold hill, Claire slid on her back, wincing as she hit items with pointy edges. Gold sledding was obviously not the most practical sports.

Landing on her butt with many more bruises accumulated, Claire jumped to her feet and ran around to the other side, just as Robinson managed to stagger to the top.

She spotted Lander's gun over by the door and ran over, turning off the safety. Now all she needed was to get Robinson to the Altar. Thus, she needed a plan….

Circling around the pile, Claire spotted Robinson descending down and ventured over to the Altar, putting it between herself and him and being careful to conceal the weapon.

"The fact is, Professor, that you're a complete fraud." she yelled over, eliciting his immediate attention. "You claim that you're 'meant' to find the treasure, but it's nothing more than the deluded rambling of your own mind. You know the academic world would never take you seriously."

Robinson glared at her murderously while wiping the blood from his forehead and advancing toward her slowly. "You're just a pawn Claire. A pawn that is going to die slowly."

"Shut up." she sneered. "So far you've done nothing for yourself. You've done nothing to prove that you're worthy of the treasure. Everything you did to get ahead you used someone else for it. So I think you're the pawn, Professor. You're the one who's going to die."

Now only the altar was left between her and Robinson. While she'd distracted him enough to keep him from noticing the altar, she had to make him come closer.

"You know, I don't even believe that shit story about being an ancestor."

Well, that definitely worked. Robinson was actually growling like an animal and launched himself over the alter at her, a knife he had miraculously procured in hand.

Claire felt herself swing the gun up, and it exploded in her hands, sending her reeling back onto her butt.

Robinson jerked as the bulled hit him in midair was blown back as if pushed by an imaginary hand .

Claire blinked, slightly stunned, as the sound echoed in her ears. Robinson wasn't moving-from what she could see of him (which were his legs) he was just lying half on the alter.

The gun was two feet from her hand, and she snatched it up quickly, her eyes still on Robinson, waiting for him to move. Slowly, she picked herself up off the ground and crept forward, the gun carefully trained on him.

As she neared, Claire could see that she had shot him in the chest, slightly off center, but not on the same side as his heart. Blood was pooling on his shirt and beginning to run down the side onto the altar.

As the first drop fell onto the surface, Claire gasped as gold sparks jumped from the drop of blood. As more blood accumulated, the sparks grew into a translucent gold bubble that swelled from the pool, growing as blood continued to flow.

Claire winced and put her hands in front of her face as the surface of the bubble passed by her as it continued to fill the room. But it did her no harm-she felt essentially the same.

But the blood flow from Robinson's wound was sluggish, and the sparking gold material could only barely fill the room. In Claire's exhausted, stressed mind it seemed almost logical that the Altar of Sangre would spew forth shiny gold stuff. The real problem was getting it to Riley. Claire remembered her previous conversation with him.

"_But you need copious amounts of blood. Like, pints."_

There wasn't enough blood.

Claire steeled herself and stepped forward until she was looming over Robinson. Lifting the gun up with a surprisingly steady hand, she placed the muzzle against his neck.

Robinson's eyes shot open.

Claire gasped and started to pull away, but he didn't move, just stared at her with bloodshot eyes as he slowly bled to death.

"You won't do it…" he rasped softly, challenging her with his eyes. "You can't do it…I know you, Claire."

"That was your first mistake, Professor. " Claire whispered back. "You don't know me."

Turning her head away, Claire squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the trigger.

---------------------------------------

As soon as the bottom of the lake was in view, Ben was out of the rowboat and wading to shore, with Abbie following close behind.

"Riley!" he called raggedly, searching the shore for anyone.

Abbie put a hand to his shoulder and pointed, and Ben finally spotted the body.

"No…." he started, running over and dropping to his knees. "No, no, no, no."

Riley was lying spread-eagle on the ground, the blood seeping from his three bullet wounds already starting to thicken and harden. His eyes were blank and empty, and devoid of the mischievous sparkle he always had in his eye.

Abbie put her arm around him, quietly sobbing, but Ben's eyes stayed dry as he still stared at Riley in disbelief, unwilling to comprehend that Riley was gone.

"Riley!" he yelled, pounding on his best friend's chest in some sort of diluted CPR. "Riley!"

"Ben, stop!"

"It's only been thirty minutes! I can bring him back!"

"Ben-"

"No, he's going to be ok!"

"Ben," Abbie choked "He's _dead_."

Ben finally felt the tears begin to push against his eyes, and stream down his cheeks in trails, dripping on Riley's chest.

"I shouldn't have let him go as me."

"Ben, there was nothing you could do." Abbie protested.

"I let him go with Deachat! I let him put his life on the line to save my own ass!"

"Ben." Abbie stated, looking over at him. "You would have done the exact same thing for him."

"I know."

That was when a gigantic gold cloud came bursting through the open door in the wall and engulfed all three of them. Ben threw his arms around Abbie, trying to protect her from whatever the stuff was, but as it swirled around them, it didn't seem to be doing anything.

And then it was gone. Disapeared, in a blink of an eye.

Ben lifted his head and looked at his wife. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. What _was_ that?"

A groan sounded from behind them. "Ugh, my head _kills_. Ben, I swear, if we ever go out partying again, you are cutting me off on my fifth beer."

---------------------------------------------

**A/N**-okay, so I took my sweet time getting this one up. I'm sorry. My exchange student left to go back home today (sob) so I could use some happy reviews to cheer me up!


	20. The History Squad ! Conclusion

Chapter Twenty

**Crazy Little Emily**- I'm glad I made your day! Sorry about the twenty week period between updates, but at least this time I left you on a happy note, right?

**Elvenrarehunter**- Don't worry about the last chapter, and thank you for the comment about action scenes! I like to think that they're my specialty, since I suck at long, emotional scenes. See below if you have any doubts  Hey, I did kill Lander, didn't I? I didn't actually realize it until I read your review. Heh. Yay! You liked the Deachat& Claire scene! I was worried that people would lose interest because they were both OC's.

**Dralx**- Hah, thanks. It's good to be loved. Yeah, I'm having a lot of fun writing Ian's reaction at the moment. It be quite fun, 'cause I haven't messed with his mind in a while. I'm glad you like the flow of the story; I try to go back and read the previous chapter before I write the new one to keep the pace and flow the same. and I'm flattered that you compared my story to POTC2. Even though I think everyone knew that Riley was going to come back, and the cliffie there was just like "ummm…wait, WHAT?"

**Makedamnsure**-Hah, of COURSE she's going to feel guilty. Would I miss a chance to screw with my character's mind? Hee. I'm glad to see you're assuaged by Riley's return. I'm glad all that sad-dying stuff was over, I hate writing that.

**Kes**- Norrington rules! Was I the only one who thought he was pretty darn sexy in DMC? Man, he should have his own movie. Even though I was pretty mad about him giving the heart to the prig-in-a-wig at the end. Hey, you noticed my Darth Psycho shout-out! Yes! Believe me, Claire is going to go through some severe killing-someone mental trauma. At least as much as I can fit into this chapter and still make the end happy. Sorry about the safety error-I should have caught that by watching Lost. And I've never actually held a gun before, unless you count those insane water guns at carnival games. I'm sick at those. Omg, I had SO much fun making Claire a revenge-obssesed badass. It was the highlight of this story!

**Soccermustang**-I'm glad you like it! Hah, it's pretty cool that I'm responding to your review of the first chapter in the last.

**Whisperwings**-Thanks! I wanted to add a little sci-fi into the mix. History +Sci-fiAmazing. Sorry it took me so long to review, I went on vacation for a week.

**Zil**-I'm happy you liked the ending! It was a relief for me to write too, I didn't like having Riley dead. I hope you like the ending in this chapter.(And the end of the fic)

**Miss Kitty**- Riley will remember, eventually, he's just kind disoriented at the moment. I'm glad you liked my story, thank you so much for reviewing!

**Elf of Life**- Yes! I love being added to people's favorite author lists. Thank you so much! I just got back from vacation, but I'm updating as soon as possible.

**Silveni**-Hah, it is, isn't it? I never really thought about it that way. Hah, Riley will always be a little bit of an idiot. But that's why it's good that Claire's a supersmart person, but also kind of an idiot. Hah, she really did kill his ass. Don't worry , it makes me laugh too. Sadly, this is the last chapter. I hope you're satisfied with it.

**Elenya2**- I'm so glad that you liked the story, and yes, this chapter is the conclusion.(Thank goodness- I don't think I could take any more of this story, as much as I love it.)

**A/N**- Last Chapter! Wow, what to say………This was my first story ever, and I enjoyed writing it ALMOST as much as I enjoyed reading the reviews I got for it. Thank you to everyone who reviewed-I would write everyone, but I have a pretty long chapter ahead of me and I don't want my hands to get cramped. By the way , AMAZING NEWS! I'm probably the absolute last person to find this out, but I just heard that they're making a SECOND NATIONAL TREASURE! Hopefully, it will be 1000000 times better than this story.

And, now, I bring you the last chapter.

"_When a man finds himself pointing the barrel of a gun at another man, he finds out who he truly is. And if you don't like it, there's no turning back."_

_Lost_

**Chapter Twenty**

There was an explosion of blood.

Claire winced, her eyes still screwed shut, as she felt warm liquid spatter against her face and chest. The metallic smell of blood crowded her senses until she had to take a few steps back to breathe.

The chamber was silent. It was an eerie, ringing feeling compared to the great noise that had been produced just a few seconds before.

Claire forced her eyes open and took another involuntary step back. The gold stuff was gone. There was no trace of anything supernatural anywhere in the blood-coated room. The silence pressed down upon her, making it seem that the gold shimmer had just been an illusion, a hallucination of a crazed mind.

Something between a gasp and a sob wretched itself out of Claire's throat as her gaze fell on Robinson, or what had become of him. Part of his head and neck had been entirely blown away, the fleshy pieces littering the floor around her.

Suddenly, the gun in her hand weighed tons, dragging her attention to the weapon that her fingers were still clutched around.

"No…" she whispered, the resounding clunk of reality suddenly dropped upon her. _She_ had just done this. _She_ had pulled the trigger into this man's head. _She_ had just killed someone.

"No" she choked, louder, as tears had once again found their way back to her eyes.

Claire tried to hurl the gun away, but it seemed glued to her hand, as if it was part of her arm. It was all too real now, the bloody carcass of her professor and the gun she held, the connection that still raced between the man and machine, sending shockwaves up her arms. _You did this_.

"NO!" she shrieked her voice cracking in guilt as she tried to drown out the accusations in her mind.

Her voice broke and crackled down to a high-pitched keening as she stood stiffly over her first kill.

Who knows how long she would have stood, standing there if it wasn't for the faint calls that began to echo through the cavern.

Claire quieted, hiccupping slightly as she strained to hear, hoping they were not just more delusions. Apparently, after people went crazy they heard voices.

"Claire! Claire!"

Claire closed her eyes. "Go away!" she screamed, trying to block out what was sure to be her impeding psychosis. "Leave me alone, please!"

"Claire!"

She hesitated, opening her eyes slightly. Would the voices in her head sound like Riley? Yes, they probably would. Just another way to torture her.

"Please" she begged, her voice too hoarse for screaming, "leave me alone. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

Rapid footsteps sounded at the cavern door and Claire jolted backwards as three actual people ran into the room, casting shadows over the walls.

Ben, Abbie and Riley panted as they scanned the room, all three stopping in shock as they saw the horrifying scene laid out in front of them.

Robinson, slumping over an alter, his head blown open and blood everywhere. Claire, standing only feet away, spattered with blood and eyes red and terrified, a gun clamped in her hand.

Horror washed over her as she stood in front of the three people who had come to matter to her, drenched in another's blood and clutching a smoking gun. She stared down at the ugly metal tool, wishing in the farthest corner of her mind that Robinson had killed her so she wouldn't have to see the look on their faces.

Abbie and Ben were too stunned to move, simply gawking at the shaking girl.

It was Riley who strode forward, across the room, stepping through the small puddles of blood until he was standing in front of Claire.

Claire stepped back, turning her head to the side in shame as tears bubbled up in her eyes. She had done this for the man standing in front of her, and she couldn't bear to see what was sure to be the look of horror and disgust at the blood smearing her face, turning her tears red.

Riley gently placed his hands on her shoulders, reaching up to wipe some of the blood and tears off her face with his thumbs.

"Claire." he said gently, "look at me."

Claire turned, staring into his eyes that were devoid of disgust and hate, and broke down, dropping the gun onto the floor and hugging him as hard as humanly possible as she sobbed into his shirt, not caring that it was covered in dried blood.

Riley wrapped his arms around her and whispered comforting things in her ear, and when Claire felt hot drops falling on the top of her head she realized he was crying too.

------------------------------------------------

The FBI team had made short work of the museum, finding the trapdoor in a matter of seconds. Ian had insisted going down first, seeing the lake and cursing.

Having no water accommodation, they could do nothing but wait. Ian paced up and down the shore, waiting for something to show on the horizon.

Finally, a giant dark bump appeared, moving slowly towards them. Everyone had stood up, tense and on the edge as what looked somewhat like a boat inched to the shore.

As the rowboat entered the shallows, several agents waded in to help pull the boat into the dock, their guns simultaneously drawn.

Ian held his breath as four figures exited the boat. Ben climbed out first, helping Abbie up as they walked though the parted FBI agents, Ben throwing a apologetic look towards Ian.

Ian finally relaxed and strode forward as he registered Claire's silhouette clambering onto the deck, accompanied by a fierce-looking Riley Poole. The nerd in question's arm around Claire's shoulders was sending serious big-brother warning bells of in his head, but at the moment Ian was just too glad she was alive to care.

Then he noticed she was covered in blood and looked half-dead. He stopped in his tracks.

Claire lifted up tired eyes to face the very last person she wanted to see after committing murder. Feeling like a wrung-out sponge, she simply hung her head, no tears left to cry as she approached her big brother.

"I'm sorry" she repeated softly, over and over as Ian swept her into a hug, realizing the meaning even before Riley broke in, still standing by her side.

"She killed Robinson" he explained quietly, his face twisted in concern and guilt. Ian gave him a long stare over Claire's head before gently guiding her towards the staircase.

"C'mon, let's go home."

---------------------------------------------------

ONE MONTH LATER

Claire fidgeted in her heavy blue robe and hat as she tried to calm herself in the congested back room. She had no reason to be nervous. She had recently embarked on a weeklong swashbuckling adventure that ended in her killing a man.

Graduation should be no problem.

Still, her stomach twisted as she imagined walking down the aisle and accepting her graduate diploma in front of all the smiling families and press. And there would be press. Claire had become a reluctant celebrity along with Ben, Abby and Riley, as they had successfully uncovered Blackbeard's treasure. She figured in a few more weeks she would be rich beyond her wildest dreams, maybe even richer than her brother, if that was possible.

Ian had decided to put his recently-paroled self to work, becoming an FBI consultant. Claire was genuinely happy for him, getting to work in his area of precision without the fear of getting arrested and thrown in jail for life. Again.

There had been no charges filed against her for the murder of Eric Robinson. With the FBI evidence and the forensic data, it had been closed as an obvious case of self-defense.

And while the killing of her professor still haunted her thoughts (and made her quite infamous on campus), the thing that bothered Claire the most was the fact that it had been three months, and she had barely been in contact with her friends. Namely, a handsome computer nerd she had developed an unhealthy attachment to.

All four of them and Ian had left Nassau on a private FBI jet. Claire was quite determined never to set foot on the island again. After the jet had landed, Ian had quickly ushered her home, where she sequestered herself for three days before remembering how much homework she had.

In a way, her work had saved her, distracting her from the absence of calls she had received from Riley, or Abbie and Ben for that matter.

Now that school was over, Claire was apprehensive about the future, with no plans lined up. (Not that she actually needed a job, now, money-wise.) She still had a ton of paperwork to fill out, and conferences to attend about the treasure. Normally Claire would dream about doing that kind of stuff, but now it only left her feeling slightly lonely.

A happy brunette girl standing in front of her shot her an excited look as the graduation line shifter slightly. "Are you nervous?" she whispered, grinning. "I can barely walk! My entire family's going to be there, probably all with video cameras."

Claire smiled vaguely and nodded until the girl turned around again. She shouldn't sulk because she didn't have a horde of people waving and taping her graduation. Claire reminded herself. After all, Ian was coming, canceling all FBI appointment he had today to come watch her.

Outside, some jaunty orchestral song had begun to play, signaling the graduates to start filing down the aisles in the open field.

Claire took a deep breath and started forward, hoping she could just get it over with quickly, smile, take a few pictures and return back to her apartment.

It was a brilliant, sunny day out, only a few fluffy white clouds dotting the sky. Claire swallowed as she caught the first sight of the giant field, packed with rows and rows of white chairs filled with people. She stared carefully at the ground, determined to make it smoothly down the aisle without any trips and falls.

She walked through the passageway, surrounded by beaming parents and grandparents, boyfriends and girlfriends. Cameras flashed all around, but none directly at her. She spotted Ian in one of the back rows and smiled, giving him a little wave. He had to keep his head down at public events-the word hadn't completely gotten around that he was a paroled man yet.

Names were shouted around her as family clamored for the attention of thier graduate. Claire gave an inward chuckle at the gigantic clan of people that seemed to have come exclusively for the girl in front of her. As the girl ducked her head and shot an embarrassed grin over her shoulder at her, Claire felt a mixture of sympathy and jelousy.

Then the yelling started.

"Claire!" someone called from far away. Claire jerked up, surprised for a moment, but then remembered that there were probably five other Claire's in the graduating class. No need to get her hopes up.

"Claire! Claire!"

Goodness, whoever they are, they were damned persistent. Claire craned her neack, trying to catch a glimpse of the source of the racket. There, it was over in the front. There was a dark haired guy waving his arms over his head like a lunatic and looking at………her. Oh. God.

Claire's jaw dropped open as she recognized no one other than Riley Poole yelling her name as loud as he could and waving crazily. And he wasn't alone. Ben and Abby were standing next to him, smiling and chuckling over Riley's antics.

Smiling like a loony, Claire waved at them, completely floored. What in blazing _hell _were they doing here?

She continued to stare, almost tripping over her own feet as she reached the podium to collect her diploma. She just remembered to smile and shake the hand of the dean before stepping down and taking a seat, turning to gawk at her newly adopted fan-base.

As the Dean finally finished a heartfelt and inspiring speech that Claire hadn't listened to a word of, the graduates threw their hats in the air, cheering and hugging. She was off like a rocket, towards the row where three people stood smiling at her.

Abbie and Ben came forward first, hugging her. Claire embraced them both tightly, noticing that Riley hung back, just watching, a slightly wary look on his face.

"Guys," she began, looking from face to face. "Not that I'm not completely overjoyed, but what are you doing here?"

Ben and Abbie shared a grin. "Well," Abbie began, "We have a…business proposition for you."

Claire tilted her head slightly confused. "What kind of business proposition?"

Ben handed her a business card, a small logo emblazoned on it next to some print. Claire's eyebrows knitted as she took the card from Ben, reading the lettering next to the logo.

"The History Squad" she read, pausing to shoot Ben a disbelieving look, but he waved his hand at her to go on.

"Historians and Treasure-Protectors. Ben and Abigail Gates, Riley Poole, and…………. and Claire Howe."

She looked up at the three, all with dead-serious expressions. "This isn't a joke?"

Abbie shook her head. "We thought we might as well make things official. Welcome to the team."

Claire laughed out of pure astonishment and delight and hugged Abbie again, still clutching the card in her hand.

"Gates, what are you doing here?"

Claire turned to see Ian marching up, looking slightly befuddled. Claire ran up to him, grinning and showed him the card, not even bothering with her diploma.

Ian read it and groaned. "You're going into _business_ with them? Christ, this is going to be torture."

Abbie cleared her throat. "Right. Ian, Ben and I were going to talk to you about those business details. Why don't we go do that now?"

Ian and Ben looked at each other. "What business details?" they questioned simultaneously, staring at Abbie. She rolled her eyes and glared at Ben, her gaze flickering to Riley quickly. "You know, those _things_ we needed to check with Ian for."

Realization dawned on Ben's face. "Right!" he said unconvincingly. "We should go and……… discuss them."

Ian stared between Abbie and Ben. "Are you two losing it?" he asked. "I have absolutely no idea……." he trailed off as Abbie's and Ben's meaningful looks at Claire and Riley finally clicked. He made a horrified face. "No fucking way. Absolutely not."

Claire was pretty sure her face was about to be lit on fire. "Ian," she choked out, gluing her eyes to the ground. "You should discuss that stuff with them. It sounds pretty urgent."

Grumbling, Ian followed Ben and Abbie through the teeming crowds, leaving Claire and Riley alone, both trying to look anywhere but at each other.

Claire finally mustered up the courage to speak. "Thanks for coming." she said quietly "you really didn't have to."

Riley took a tentative step forward. "Actually, I did. I came to apologize."

Claire looked at him uncertainly. "Apologize for what?"

He ran a hand through his hair nervously. "After what happened in the caves, I know I stayed away from you for a while. It's just that after seeing you like that……"

Claire's heart sank. "It's okay." she said, trying to keep her tone light. "I went psycho, I killed a guy, most people would stay away from me for a while."

Riley looked startled. "No! Wait, that's not what I meant at all! Jeez, wait, can I just…start over again? I had to stay away from you because I was guilty."

Claire blinked. "_What_? Why would you feel guilty?"

"I made you kill someone!"

_Ah_. Now it was all beginning to make sense. "Riley," she began. "Getting killed was not your fault."

"Yeah, I know," Riley brushed aside uncertainly. " But you killed him on the altar…you did it to bring me back. And I saw you afterward, Claire….I've never seen someone so screwed up as you were after killing him-"

"I'd do it again." she interrupted, looking him straight in the eye. "You're right, I knew I would hate killing him, but I didn't care. It was…" she trailed off, staring back down at her feet. "It was worth it."

Riley grinned. "Really?"

Claire rolled her eyes "Now don't go around getting a big ego, I did it for other reasons too. That guy was an _asshole_-"

The beginning of her rant was cut off as Riley simply closed the distance between them and taking her face in both of his hands, kissed her.

Claire was, needless to say, surprised. Her diploma fluttered to the ground as her hands went slack, but the shock wore off quickly, and against the nervous rambling of her mind telling her that it wasn't really proper to do this in public, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Riley tilted his head, deepening the kiss as he gripped the back of her head with one hand, the other snaking possessively around her waist. Claire practically melted.

After a few heavenly moments, Riley pulled away abruptly. Claire craned her neck back, looking at him confusedly. "Why'd you stop?"

He gave her a sheepish grin. "Because your brother looks like he wants to kill me."

Claire spun to see Ian glowering at Riley, with a smiling Ben and an ecstatic Abbie trailing behind him.

"What the hell do you think you were-"

"Ian" Claire cut him off quickly, standing adamantly next to Riley, "I was _kissing_ him. Because I _want_ to. I'm twenty-three and I can make out with whoever I want."

Ian started to say something, then stopped himself. "You really want to be with this guy?"

"Yes."

"Fine" he relented, turning to Riley. "Poole, if you do anything to her, I still have connections. I really don't think anyone would miss you."

"Right…Thanks" Riley replied shakily, but looked Ian seriously in the eye. "I wouldn't"

"Good to know."

Turning, Ian headed for the parking lot. "Congratulations, Claire. I'll see you at home." Throwing Riley one last dirty look, he disappeared into the crowd.

Riley laughed nervously. "Well, that went well."

Claire smirked up at him. "Actually, it did. He didn't shoot you, did he?"

"Thank God." Riley deadpanned. "I think I've been shot enough this month."

Abbie smiled wickedly at her husband. "I _told_ you they would get together."

"Yeah, Yeah, you were right." Ben relented, and winced as his cell phone rang shrilly in his pocket. "Damn it, the Nassau government keeps on calling me about the finder's fee! I'm half tempted to tell them to keep the treasure!"

Claire and Riley, who were dangerously close to kissing again, whipped around.

"No!" they chorused, wide-eyed. Ben chuckled.

"That was a joke."

Riley smiled smugly. "Plus Ben, the finder's fee is totally my call, remember?"

"Yes Riley, I remember. You been very subtly reminding me for the last three weeks."

Riley ignored the jibe and turned to Claire. "Let's see… how much can we milk out of the Nassau government?"

Claire smirked. "Shoot for sixty percent."

Ben coughed in alarm as Riley whipped out his cell phone. "Wait a minute….guys…. don't you think that's a _little_ too much? Guys?"

"Hello?" Riley chirped as Claire began to tug him away to the parking lot. "Yeah, Riley Poole here. We've decided on the finder's fee….."

Claire gazed up at her semi-boyfriend as he placed the call, grinning like a kid.

Snapping his phone closed, he slung his arm around her. "Well, Miss Howe, it looks like you've finally got your fortune and glory."

Claire smiled, looking into his eyes. "Yes," she replied. "I did, didn't I?"

----------------------------------------

Oh my goodness. I seriously might cry. This was my first Fanfiction story ever, and thank you SO MUCH for the people who took time to read it. (And I can't resist one fianl act of shameless self-promotion. I just started a Lost/Red Eye crossover in the Red Eye section, so if you like either of those go give it a try!) It's been fun, guys!


End file.
